


Alter Ego

by fowo



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Seb please get your PTSD looked at, Slow Burn, Strong Language, canon divergence as of the second game, generous interpretation of alien hand syndrome, how often can I bring up Lily Castellanos per chapter the bets are open come one come all, i wrote these tags instead of writing the fic, if tango games can get away with it so can I, i’m pretty sure Tango didn’t know what they were doing and that’s exactly what I’m doing too, plot is around the corner but it's shy, so many oxford commas, the author has not bothered to google medical procedures more than necessary, very questionable enabling of drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2018-12-12 23:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowo/pseuds/fowo
Summary: Sebastian was looking for Ruvik. What he found wasn't what he expected.Now he’s on the run with aschizophrenickid who’s also a scientific genius-gone-serial killer, and together they’re about to bring down an organisation he didn’t know existed 24h prior.





	1. Trauma

**Author's Note:**

> *arrives three years late with cheap take away coffee* 'sup

Though not exactly a rule, officers and detectives were advised not to smoke in their cars. Sebastian Castellanos was very aware of that as he snapped his lighter open and lit the last of his scrunched-up Marlboros anyway.

It had only been a week. A week after what he had been told later had only been roughly forty minutes—but felt like a fucking lifetime, and several layers of hell right after.

After staying at home for one day, on insistence of his boss, Sebastian had basically begged to come back to work. Never before had his empty apartment been so haunted. The white ceiling above his sofa had become familiar as the TV droned on and lulled him into uneasy rest, plagued by Lily’s screams and the crackling of fire, of Myra walking out the door over and over again. But now he couldn't stand the walls closing in on him anymore.

After some haggling—the boss didn’t want him on cases, and not without a partner—Sebastian was allowed back on patrol at least. 

Still better than sitting at home. Still better than watching the darkness creep into his apartment. Still better to wait for the radio coming to life than his nightmares.

And as if she’d heard him think, their front lady’s voice came crackling through the intercom. “All units, there's a 10-56 at Krimson City Park, any available units please respond.”

More than ready to do anything, Sebastian snatched up the speaker. “This is Castellanos in 9-55, I’m on my way. Over.”

“Copy that, Sebastian. Over and out.”

Sebastian let out a huff of held breath with a plume of smoke. Without realizing it, he’d been fearing that he might not be considered suited enough to handle anything other than a racer tonight. Not that an intoxicated pedestrian would be much more thrilling, but it was something.

Krimson City’s biggest park was beautiful during the day, but not so much once the dark crept between the trees, under the benches and bridges. All sorts of low-life liked to gather around here, and honestly, it was a bit of a surprise someone would even bother to call KCPD to deal with just another poor soul lost to the bottle.

Not that Sebastian could judge, really. He managed to show up to work sober because he was a functioning alcoholic, but that didn't mean the whiskey bottles on his coffee table hadn’t well doubled since the incident at Beacon.

Sebastian forced his thoughts back to the present, to the red light he was waiting at that illuminated the street and his car. Red like blood, like blood on four spidery arms that reached out to—

The light switched and Sebastian hit the gas hard enough to make the tires scream to get away from his thoughts. He was at the park in less than fifteen minutes and, after checking back for details on the call, grabbed a flashlight and prepared to pull a drunk hobo, teen or frustrated husband out of the greenery and make sure they were taken to a hospital. 

He didn’t have to search much. Just a short distance from the entrance to the park, Sebastian spotted footsteps on the gravel that staggered to the side, spraying pebbles all over the patchy lawn and leaving a trail all the way to the rhododendrons that were planted a bit further away.

A quick survey with the flashlight brought up a navy backpack, torn and tattered and patched with band logos that lay discarded a bit away. Not far from it, a vodka bottle that spilled its content over the grass, probably killing millions of organisms underneath. And in-between the rhododendrons, he spotted the soles of two worn-down Nikes attached to twiggy, pale legs. 

Teenager today, then. 

Sebastian sighed as he stepped closer, brushing the bushes away. “Hey, kid?” he said, loudly. “You hear me?”

There was no response, and Sebastian sighed again, tucked the flashlight under his arm to bend forward and pull the kid out of the greenery by the waistband of their jeans. Their limbs tangled when Sebastian set them down maybe a little too roughly, and when he bend down to check for a pulse, the first he saw in the swaying beam of his flashlight was white hair.

It was greasy, like it hadn’t been washed in a few days, but what was really weird about it was how one part of it looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors, determined to get a haircut, chopped off the first bit and then decided not to go through with it.

Even when he was thinking it, the black bags under the kid’s pale lashes registered, their pudgy cheeks and soft, purplish lips, and Sebastian recoiled violently from Leslie Withers before he could check for any vitals at all. 

He landed on his ass on the ground like a fucking rookie, losing the flashlight that tumbled away and illuminated Leslie’s tangled legs grotesquely. Sebastian’s heart hammered all the way up to his throat, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe. 

For a few seconds that stretched into small eternities, nothing happened, until Sebastian heard his breathing over his heartbeat again. 

He finally moved, running a hand over his face and feeling the clammy sweat that stuck to his forehead and over his upper lip. He needed to fucking shave, he noted dully. 

Leslie—if it  _ was _ him—hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe he was insane, but Sebastian took his pistol out from his holster and crept forward. Very, very carefully, he extended a hand and put it to his throat. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t a pulse that was fluttering like a frightened bird in a cage. His breathing was shallow and erratic. His skin was damp and cold. 

“Shit,” Sebastian said, and then, “What the fuck.”

Calling an ambulance was what he should have done, but the idea—Leslie—ambulance— _ falling _ —the look on Connelly’s face when he turned—didn’t even register as he took Leslie and swung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He weighed nothing, and Sebastian could feel his hip bones and ribs poke him even through their combined layers of clothing. Sebastian grabbed the flashlight, Leslie’s backpack, and took all of it back to his car, still with his weapon in hand. He wasn’t sure what he wanted with it—would he really  _ shoot _ Leslie?—but was it Leslie, really?—but it made him feel better. If this was real—it  _ had _ to be—a bullet was all it took. Right into the brain. If this wasn’t Leslie, it was the only choice he had. 

What if he wasn’t Leslie?

 

*

 

He had never been exactly a  _ fan  _ of hospitals, but Beacon had made everything just a little bit worse. As Sebastian waited, too tense to sit down and instead pacing through the hallway, he always expected the lights to flicker and hordes of the Haunted waiting for him every time he turned around. 

He wasn't sure if his relief when it wasn't so was really a good thing. 

He had brought Leslie here in his car, without bothering to let station know about his status, and ignoring all incoming calls, carrying him in his arms right into the hospital and towards the first nurse he had seen. Their alienation aside, he was glad the kid was being looked after now, although waiting for someone emerge to tell him what was going on was like someone taking a sharp knife to a thread, grazing the edge along the length, slowly but surely cutting every fiber. 

When a doctor finally emerged from Leslie's designated room and closed the door behind her, Sebastian spun around. “And?” he prompted, close to shaking her by the shoulders when she wouldn’t speak quite as quickly as he wanted her to. 

She sighed and rubbed her brow. It was close to four in the morning on a Wednesday, and some part of Sebastian, the part that was empathic and not lost to frenzy, related to her tired look and exasperation. “Well,” she said. “Kid’s got a BAC of 0.19 which is a  _ lot  _ given his physique and malnourishment; we hooked him up for now. He should be alright in a few hours. He was hypothermic but that's no surprise after passing out outside. Otherwise he seems fine—just a couple of scratches and bruises on his legs and arms. Unusually many, I’ll add, but it doesn’t look like he was a victim to violence. Maybe he’s a klutz, or just bruises easily.”

Sebastian nodded and looked at her expectantly. 

After a short pause, she knitted her brows and said, “yes?” 

“No signs of, uh,” Sebastian said, gesturing vaguely, “mental, er,  _ things _ happening?”

“Mental things,” she repeated and looked at him very tiredly. “No. He's unconscious right now.”

“Unconscious,” Sebastian repeated, in what was the universe’s least productive dialogue ever. “You sure about that?”

“I've been a doctor in this hospital for thirteen years, I think I can tell whether a patient is unconscious or not,” she said with a frown. “Of course, that's only  _ my _ professional opinion.”

He ignored her snark. “Can’t we wake him up?” Sebastian asked before he could bite back the words.

Her eyes hardened. “Detective Castellanos, even if that  _ was  _ a possibility to consider, I’d be allowing no such thing. He’s a patient under my care and I’m responsible for his wellbeing. He needs rest. If you start making a scene, I’ll have you escorted out by security.”

Sebastian raised his arms in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he soothed quickly, equal parts surprised and relieved to see that there were still doctors in Krimson City who didn’t see their patients as  _ microbes _ . “I’m sorry, I’m… a little on edge.”

“I can see that,” she said matter-of-factly. “I have more patients waiting. You’ll excuse me.” With that, she shook her head and brushed past him.

“I know the kid,” Sebastian called after her, and she actually turned to look back at him. “He was a patient at Beacon, under care of Dr Jimenez.” He lowered his voice when she stopped. “I trust you read about what happened.”

“I did,” she said, slowly, reevaluating the situation, but then she pushed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat with an air of finality. “Listen, Detective, if you have questions for the boy, you'll have to wait until he wakes up, one way or another.”

So close to getting answers, Sebastian hated the idea that he had to wait a couple more hours. But the tight line of her frown made him surrender. “Is it alright if I stay until that happens?” he asked finally. No way would he leave Leslie behind and unsupervised now that he had found him. 

She waved a hand at him tiredly. “Suit yourself, Detective,” she muttered. “Although I really recommend you get a few hours of sleep yourself.  _ Without _ drinking. Good night now, for real.“

That had him frown. “Is that your professional opinion, too?” he asked, maybe more gruff than intended, but she had no reason to comment on this.

She didn’t look back at him this time. “Good  _ night _ , Detective.”

He scoffed and turned away.

 

*

 

The following morning, Sebastian woke up in a hospital one time too many. At least the only bad thing happening this time was a stiff neck after spending so much time cramped on a couch in a waiting room. Despite his urgency to kick in the door to Leslie’s room—if he  _ was _ Leslie—he had the decency to make a detour to the restroom. He felt considerably more human after a piss and washing his face and rinsing his mouth. 

Coming back out with his trenchcoat and shoddy tie over his arm, he ran into a nurse that came out of Leslie’s room. “Is he awake yet?” he asked, feeling his stomach drop when the nurse nodded.

He knocked on the door and opened it before anyone called him inside.

Leslie sat upright in his bed, and Sebastian’s stomach lurched back up seeing the boy in a hospital gown again. But something had changed, and to Sebastian’s surprise, it was a  _ good _ change: despite yesterday, the kid’s cheeks had some color, and although his hair was a mess, beneath his barely visible eyebrows, two pale eyes lit up with recognition as he stood in the door, doorknob in hand. 

A nurse was sitting at his bedside, holding a tray with food. Leslie had a spoon in hand, and, if the mess on his face was anything to go by, trouble feeding himself. 

How had someone like him wound up drunk in a park?

The nurse looked at him expectantly, and Sebastian gathered himself up. “Leslie?” he asked. “Leslie Withers?”

Leslie smacked his lips, looking at the nurse. “Leslie!” he repeated, and then added, “I’m Leslie!”

“You know him?” the nurse asked, surprised. 

Sebastian nodded, pulling out his badge. “I’m a detective from KCPD. He’s been reported missing a while back,” he answered. “He’s a patient over at Beacon.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well then. I guess that explains a lot.”

“Explains a lot!” Leslie said cheerfully.

“Like what?” Sebastian asked, carefully stepping closer as the nurse continued to help Leslie feed himself. The scene seemed entirely innocent, but Sebastian couldn’t help but feel like something was odd. He had  _ seen  _ Leslie fade into dust—but that hadn’t been real, had it; it had been a bad dream. 

But what about after that...

“He’s like a child,” the nurse interrupted his thoughts, and the point was seriously forced home by Leslie opening his mouth and her helping him to get a spoonful of oatmeal inside. “And very non-verbal. Most of what he says are repetitions of what has already been said.”

“Yeah,” said Sebastian, watching Leslie chew and promptly be distracted by a bird by his window, making excited, but wordless noises. “He’s been like that back in—he’s been like this when I first met him.” He drew in a spare chair and sat down next to Leslie’s bed, leaning in. “Leslie?” he asked carefully, drawing the young man’s attention back to him. Leslie stared at him from big, innocent eyes, taking up chewing again. “Do you remember me?” Sebastian continued, not knowing what to expect. He and Leslie had never met in real life before, and it wasn’t like Sebastian had had anyone to really talk about what had happened.

To his surprise, Leslie smiled and nodded. “Sebastian,” he said, letting his spoon fall to his blanket to reach out with his hand. “You’re nice. You helped me.”

Sebastian took Leslie’s hand because he couldn’t think of anything else to do while the words hit him like a truck. 

“Huh,” the nurse said. “That’s the most he’s said on his own all morning. He must like you.”

“Like!” Leslie parroted, holding on to Sebastian’s hand. He sounded so damn sincere that Sebastian couldn’t help himself; he smiled at the kid and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I like you too, Leslie,” he said, and then looked over at the nurse. “Can I have a word with him? Please.”

She shrugged and then handed him the tray. “Make sure he eats,” she said. “He needs it. He probably hasn’t eaten properly in weeks.”

Sebastian nodded as he was still staring down at the tray and bowl of oatmeal inside, feeling a dull ache in his chest when he realized he hadn’t spoon-fed anyone since Lily was a toddler. She was a good girl, never playing with her food or anything, she would always just—

Leslie plunging his spoon into the bowl brought him back to the present.

“Leslie,” Sebastian started, “do you remember what happened?”

Leslie was chewing with the spoon still in his mouth, a few new grains of oatmeal around his lips. He didn’t look Sebastian in the eye, gaze cast downward, until he finally drew his legs in and shook his head.

“You don’t remember?” Sebastian asked carefully. “Or you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Talk, don’t talk,” Leslie muttered, drawing the spoon out of his mouth. “Don’t talk.”

“Leslie, I need to know what happened to you,” Sebastian said. He was trying hard not to let the urgency he felt mix into his voice. He knew the last thing Leslie needed was someone pushing him again. But he  _ had _ to know.

“What happened,” Leslie whispered. He stared at his lap, his hands holding the aluminium spoon. “No, no. Don’t remember, no, don’t remember.”

Sebastian reached out with a hand again. “Do you remember Ruvik?” he asked quietly. Leslie twitched, hunching up more, drawing his hands in towards his shoulders the same way Sebastian knew so well. “Hey, hey, Leslie,” Sebastian soothed instantly, leaning in further to carefully grab Leslie’s hands and pull them back down. “I got you, you’re safe now. I’ll protect you. I always have, haven’t I?”

“Haven’t you,” Leslie repeated, and something in Sebastian knew it was a lie, because whatever happened in STEM, Sebastian hadn’t been able to stop it, not really.  Leslie lifted his head a little, looking past Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m safe?”

“Yes, Leslie,” Sebastian said, giving his hands a squeeze. “But for it to stay that way, I need to know what happened to you after you woke up. Even before that. What happened to you in STEM? In Ruvik’s machine? Do you remember?”

“He is a bad man,” Leslie said, with a conviction that reminded Sebastian of Lily telling him that  _ obviously  _ blue was the prettiest color. 

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Sebastian muttered, more to himself, but he looked up when he felt Leslie’s hands begin to tremble and shake in his grip, but he didn’t pull away.

“Safe,” Leslie said again.“Safe, safe. He was there. He’s bad, bad, bad. Very bad. But I’m safe now, I’m safe. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s bad but he’s gone.”

Sebastian frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened again, and Leslie’s attention snapped to his doctor coming in. He got out of Sebastian’s grip, reaching out to her with both hands, making little  _ ah, ah, ah _ sounds all the while, and again, Sebastian thought of a crib, of Lily.

The doctor smiled and stepped closer, accepting his grabby hands in hers. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, casting Sebastian only a short glance. 

“Good, good,” Leslie said, still nodding, still holding her hands. 

She smiled at him. “That’s so good to hear. Can you tell me who you are?”

Leslie looked at Sebastian as if asking permission, and the doctor frowned. 

Sebastian finally took the time to check her name tag; it read Dr Carina García, and looking up at her, he provided, “Leslie Withers.”

“Ah,” muttered Dr García. “That name rings a bell.” Sebastian nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off and gathered herself up. “Well Mr Withers, would you be okay with a couple more tests?” When she saw his fearful expression, she added, “nothing drastic, I promise. We just want to make extra sure everything is fine.”

Again, Leslie looked to Sebastian for advice, and despite the queasy feeling in his stomach, Sebastian found himself nodding. “It’ll be fine, Leslie,” he said. “It’s for your own good.” He hoped so, at least, and that maybe he would learn what happened in the past weeks.

“I will be fine,” Leslie said. He sounded very cautious, but he squeezed Dr García’s hands. 

She smiled encouragingly at him before turning to Sebastian. “Please wait outside, Detective Castellanos.” 

He hated it, but he nodded and stood. “Alright,” he muttered. He knew compliance was the only way; he would achieve nothing by being stubborn now. He could still wait just outside the door until they were finished, he didn’t have to leave Leslie. This wasn’t STEM, there would be no surprises that took him away again.

He almost believed it.

 

*

 

So—much— _ waiting _ .

To busy himself, Sebastian went to find the cafeteria, to get himself a coffee and a stale bacon sandwich for breakfast. With all the stress he hadn’t noticed just how hungry he actually was, and got himself a second right after. While he ate, he flipped through a few magazines, but besides aggravating him, they didn’t help at all. So many benign problems—get fitter, get sexier, get richer. Like it even mattered. No matter how many times they’d write them, the “10 best ways to please him in bed” were not gonna work if people didn’t  _ talk _ to each other.

Granted, maybe he wasn’t the best example of that himself.

When he went back to Leslie’s room, barely forty minutes had passed and for a moment he was afraid it hadn’t been enough, but just when he was about to sit down to wait some more, he saw Dr García come from an office further down the hallway. Her expression changed visibly when she saw him, but she collected herself quickly as she approached.

“You’re rather tenacious,” she muttered.

“Part of the job description,” he answered. “So what about Leslie?”

She sighed, raising a clipboard she was carrying. “Not much,” she said. “Adding to his already vast diagnoses, Mr Withers shows signs of short-term memory loss.” 

“What does that mean?” Sebastian asked, although he knew the answer.

She gave her clipboard a little shake as if she’d let Sebastian read it. “It’s hard to say without keeping him here for further testing. It might be a side-effect of drinking so heavily, but he doesn’t remember much about the past weeks, and some of the things he tells us seem more like hallucinations, or nightmares.”

“I bet,” Sebastian muttered, more to himself.

If García heard him, she didn’t react to it. “I’m worried about the alcohol intake,” she said. “Do you know Mr Withers to be a user, Detective?”

“Not exactly, no. I don’t think he was using before—ah, I mean, under Dr Jimenez’s care.”

She frowned at him. “Hardly. With Mr Withers’s diagnoses, I doubt he would even have access.” She sighed and flipped through her chart. “Beacon provided us with the files they had on him, although it seems parts are missing? They said it’s still from the incident.”

Sebastian wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t say anything.

“Maybe someone enabled him,” she continued. “He’s heavily dependant on help, anyway. He can’t feed himself, I can’t see him drinking on his own. Let alone purchasing… He has no money, no ID, and I doubt he’s capable of stealing...”

Sebastian hated that she sounded entirely too reasonable. And he hated that he thought he had an answer to all those questions, vague as it was. 

“When can he leave?” was all he asked, because there was no use in telling her.

She looked up, seemingly confused by his change in topic. “Well, he’s physically fine now,” she said, “so whenever Beacon is ready to collect him, I guess.”

“ _ No _ .”  It was out before Sebastian even knew he said it.

She looked at him with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I mean—I’ll escort him,” he added quickly. At this point, Sebastian would rather handcuff himself to the kid just to make sure he wouldn’t run off anymore. “I feel… sort of responsible for him, I guess. I’ll drive him, make sure he gets back safe and sound.”

She gave him a look, but didn’t comment on whatever she was thinking. “Be my guest. I’ll get the release papers ready, then.”

He barely held in a sigh of relief. “Thanks, doctor.”

She nodded vaguely, and Sebastian had the feeling she knew what he was going to do, and he felt tense until she turned to enter Leslie’s room again, closing the door behind her.

 

*

 

The clothes Leslie had worn before were in bad shape. They reeked of alcohol and vomit, of dirt and sour sweat. The jeans were too wide around Leslie’s thin waist, the sweater loose around his shoulders. Leslie seemed clueless as to how to dress himself so Sebastian helped him into the pant legs and through the sleeves. Leslie didn’t seem to mind, seemed elsewhere with his thoughts altogether, watching birds outside and turning his head this way and that when he heard noises from the hallway. 

“How did you end up drunk in Krimson Park, Leslie?” Sebastian muttered as he tied his sneakers. 

To his surprise, Leslie actually answered. “Don’t know, don’t remember. Drunk?”

“Drunk as a skunk,” Sebastian said, straightening himself and gently grabbing Leslie’s arm. “Celebrating your new freedom?”

“Freedom,” Leslie repeated, as if he’d never before heard that word. 

“Yeah. That’s gotta be a new concept for you, huh?” When Sebastian started walking, Leslie followed with his typical shuffling, tippy-toed gait that Sebastian remembered. Slowing himself down to let Leslie set the pace, it was hard to keep up his suspicions. There was no sign whatsoever of Ruvik, even after multiple hours. Sebastian wanted so much to believe that he was being paranoid. They’d always called him that, even Joseph, but Sebastian found that most of the time, it paid off. 

But God, he did not want to be right this time.

Walking Leslie out of the hospital doors felt unreal. Outside, the sun was shining, and despite Sebastian’s bad feeling, neither did the floor start cracking open, nor were they attacked by the hospital staff turned into Haunted. 

Without any complications at all they reached his car, and Sebastian opened the door, helped Leslie inside, fastened his seatbelt and closed the door. They drove off without anything remarkable taking place. 

It was the weirdest that had happened to Sebastian in a while. 

Leslie was entirely fascinated by being in a car. He touched everything, and busied himself for a couple of minutes with opening and closing the glove box before he started to stare out of the window, occasionally naming what things he saw. The fact that traffic lights changed colors seemed to surprise him every time, and Sebastian turned on the radio just to see his reaction. With so much childlike wonder to marvel at, the drive back home to Sebastian’s apartment was over in a moment.

No matter how many years passed, Sebastian still put his marital status down as “married.” They called him pig-headed for it at the station. But they called him a good deal of things, so Sebastian had stopped caring. Myra had left and vanished, but he never heard anything of a divorce attorney, never got handed any papers, nothing. Even after they gave in to his request to put her down as missing, and maybe especially after that.

So Sebastian figured he was a married man. He had the band to prove it. The inside, though faded with years, still read  _ Yours until the end, Myra. 09/17/2005 _ . 

His flat, however, looked like a proper bachelor’s place. Sebastian insisted he had a system but for anyone else, it was just a mess. Once or twice Joseph had offered to help clean it all up, and sometimes they had even started, but it was a fool’s errand and they both knew this. 

Sebastian opened the door and kicked a few stray articles of clothing away as he let Leslie in. At least the kid seemed completely unperturbed by the mess, venturing deeper into the flat to the living room and enclosed kitchenette. 

It was here that Sebastian lived; the flat had an office and a bedroom, but after Myra left, Sebastian did most of his work on his coffee table and slept on the couch. The queen size bed was nothing more than another place to put things down on. 

Leslie thought the most interesting thing about Sebastian’s flat was the glass doors to the balcony facing the street. He shuffled over, palms and nose pressed against the glass, and stared down, looking at the cars and people go by. 

Sebastian stood a little awkwardly in the doorway. “You hungry?” he asked finally. 

Leslie turned and looked like he had completely forgotten Sebastian was even there. Then he nodded eagerly. “Yes!” he said. 

Sebastian didn’t know much about catatonia, but he was sure Leslie not repeating the question before answering was a good sign. “Alright,” he said. “Let me see what the kitchen has to offer.”

Not much, was what. But Sebastian found two cans of ravioli, and figured, hey, kids loved the stuff, so Leslie sure wouldn’t mind. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook—having a kid, that was no option at all. It was just that… without anyone but himself to cook for, he saw no need for it. Food had become nothing but fuel, not something that he enjoyed. Even when Joseph had dragged him along for burgers, it was all just a dull blur, like waking up with sleep-smeared eyes. And that for years.

Sebastian cleared the kitchen table of empty bottles, newspapers and ashtrays. He did the dishes that were cluttered about, and all the while, picked up every noise of Leslie shuffling through the living room, talking softly to himself. 

It was bad to let his guard down, he knew, but he noticed how he relaxed. How tasks that seemed insurmountable just two days ago now suddenly weren’t so bad anymore.

When the food was heated up, Sebastian actually took out plates and spoons, and called Leslie into the kitchen. When he saw the food he seemed happy, thanking Sebastian, and Sebastian made a mental note to go shopping, get some fruit and vegetables, get Leslie something healthier to eat soon so his thanks were actually justified.

Leslie seemed to fare much better now that he was away from people he didn’t know. Most of what he muttered was still nonsensical to Sebastian’s ears, but he noticed the boy would make eye contact every now and then, and Leslie more or less ate without help, too. 

That, though, meant that after his meal, his sweater was even more a case for the laundry machine than before. On hindsight, tomato sauce had been not as good an idea has he thought.

“We need to wash you and get you some clean clothes,” Sebastian muttered when he wiped Leslie’s face clean with a Kleenex. “Christ, I didn’t think this through.”

He really didn’t, but that had never stopped him before. He dragged Leslie into the bathroom to get him to undress and wash. To his surprise, Leslie wasn’t quite as helpless as he had feared, and sitting him down in the bathtub and filling it halfway with water and soap, Leslie did the rest by himself, shampooing and washing his hair as Sebastian sat with sleeves rolled up on the brim and forbade himself any further thoughts of what it would have been like with Lily.

Sebastian found Leslie a pair of sweatpants that he suspected were actually Joseph’s, and an old t-shirt that fitted him somewhat. The rest of the afternoon, Leslie was content to sit on the floor in the living room with some papers and a pen, doodling while Sebastian cleaned up the flat (putting all alcoholic beverages away and out of reach, just to be sure) and called work.

When he told them he had finally realized that he did need those days off, they didn’t even argue. 

And then he sat at the table, watching Leslie draw and wondered what the fuck he was doing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticism, blatant fangirling? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> A very speacial THANK YOU to derry for betareading this and making fangirl noises while doing so. And also for watching me play TEW for moral support and being more jumpy than me; makes me feel less unadequate in a genre like this. 
> 
> I'M SO EXCITED FOR TEW2 YOU GUYS. Obviously Death of the Outsider is first (AAAaaaahhhHH) but I AM SO EXCITED. I'LL KICK TANGO GAMES IF RUVIK ISN'T THERE THO. I SWEAR.
> 
>  
> 
> come bother me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/fowo__) if y'all like!


	2. Alien Mind

Leslie had little energy. He made it through the day okay, but after dinner, Sebastian watched his eyes droop and head drop. “Let's get you to bed,” he said, helping him up. 

The bed in the bedroom wasn’t made and cluttered with clothes, dirty and clean ones that Sebastian hadn’t had the spoons to put away, and whatever else he had put down and never touched again after. 

He cleared away the mess and pulled out of the wardrobe some clean sheets and made the bed. It felt unreal; domestic, but he had no time to dwell on the thought because Leslie made a happy little noise and flopped down between the pillows and blankets, wrapping himself up. His face all but disappeared in his nest, and Sebastian chuckled. 

“Good night, Leslie,” he said and went to kill the light. Leslie muttered something as Sebastian softly closed the door. 

*

After that he was left to his own devices.

First on the list was a smoke, and a glass of whiskey. With both, he sank into the couch in the living room with a deep sigh. The burn of smoke and alcohol felt good, felt familiar. After the emotional rollercoaster of the last 24 hours, at least this was something he could rely on. For a while he just sat like this, legs stretched outward and head leaned back on the cushions, and thought of nothing.

But darkness crept into his head just as unfailingly. Sebastian got up and lit the lights, as if banning his nightmares into the corners and crooks of his apartment was any better than facing them out in the open.

At least, he was responsible for someone else besides him again. That helped keep him together, and he went around the living room, cleaning up after Leslie’s creative outbursts. 

He was a bit surprised that Leslie took such joy in drawing, but supposed he wasn’t in any position to judge the boy’s interests. STEM was far from imputable. And judging from all the copy paper strewn around the floor that he had taken a pen to, he was a little artist.

Sebastian gathered them all up and sat himself down again with another smoke and another glass and had a look. But whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this. 

Leslie’s drawings were abstract and didn’t decipit people or things, only shapes. One paper was completely filled with squares. It wasn’t that he was only doodling mindlessly, every figure was made on its own and with great care. 

Sebastian was even more surprised when he found writing. Or letters, to be more specific. A few of the sheets had the alphabet on it, written in big, shaky lines like a first-grader would do. The kerning was as jumbled at the spacing; the A and K almost wider than the W, the S crumpled up in its second curve. Many letters were written a couple of times before moving on, quite like practice. 

Sebastian frowned, but thought nothing of it. Lily always had—

He stopped himself and put the sheets on a pile on the coffee table. 

He had another glass, and another smoke, this time on the balcony, staring down at Krimson’s nightlife. Every time he heard sirens, he flinched, wondering what kind of crime had been committed, and whether he shouldn’t be there. 

Even the outside seemed to close in on him.

 

*

 

Sebastian woke in the middle of the night to—not a nightmare, no, just a sound. For a moment, he was lost as to where he was until the familiarity of his living room caught up to him. He had fallen asleep on the couch still fully dressed, and his mouth tasted like ash.

He sat up, listening, and heard another sound. It came from the bathroom, and Sebastian cursed under his breath. Washing aside, he hadn’t considered this. Of course Leslie would need help. 

“Leslie?” he called, but instead of an answer, the sound subsided. Sebastian got to his feet and went to the hallway and saw light pooling through a crack in the bathroom door. He gently pushed it open. 

In a split second, multiple things happened: Sebastian realized who he was looking at. Through Leslie Withers’s eyes, Ruvik was looking at him with the same unrelenting, unnerving stare that Sebastian knew so well. His stance, too, was so familiar; he carried himself so damn proud and cocksure.

Sebastian went for his gun but realized while he was still moving that it was on the coffee table in the living room. 

The same moment Ruvik made a step backwards, stumbled over the bath mat or his own feet, tripped against the brim of the bathtub, fell, grabbed for purchase and only reached the shower curtain, tumbling into the bathtub with a crash that sounded painful and the curtain softly covering him. 

Sebastian stood in the doorway, hand still next to his armpit where his holster was missing, and stared at two naked feet sticking out of his bathtub. 

Ruvik groaned with Leslie’s voice, and fought to free himself of the shower curtain. 

It was a long stretch from the composed serial killer Sebastian was used to seeing. 

Sebastian grabbed the first thing close to a weapon that was handy; a plastic mop. “Don't fucking move, Ruvik,” he said. “I’ve mashed your brain once and I’ll do it again.”

To his surprise, two hands raised up from the shower curtain in surrender. “I’m in no position to fight you, Seb,” Ruvik said, amazingly composed for someone sitting under a shower curtain in a bathtub. “If you could not kill me, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Sebastian frowned. Mop at the ready, he took a step further into his bathroom, stretched out a cautious hand and ripped the curtain away. 

Ruvik blinked at him, completely calm. He still had his hands raised defensively, although that gave Sebastian no sense of security at all. All things considered, Ruvik had never needed his hands much to kill. 

He still looked largely like Leslie—the white hair, the full lips, he was still wearing the worn out sweatpants and black shirt Sebastian had dressed him in. But at the same time, he was unmistakably Ruvik—something in the sneer of his lips and calm stare. Didn’t they say the eyes were the mirrors of the soul? Something like that. 

“What the fuck is going on,” Sebastian muttered. 

“I’ll gladly provide you with answers,” Ruvik said calmly, only to lash out the next moment. 

Sebastian recoiled, but before Ruvik could grab him, he had his own left hand clenched in his right, looking as if he was fighting it down forcefully. “Not now,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re making it worse. Settle down!”

“Excuse me?” Sebastian said in utter disbelief. 

“Not you,” Ruvik said as if talking to a child. He pressed his hand down and managed to capture it between his legs. Sebastian could see it twitching and jerking as if in a seizure.

“What the fuck is going on,” Sebastian said again because there was nothing else left to say. 

“Getting this body under control is a bit of a hassle,” Ruvik sneered, holding on to his shoulder. Eventually, the spasm subsided, and Ruvik relaxed a little.

Sebastian didn’t. “You’re… Leslie now?”

“Not quite.” Ruvik grinned with a twist in the corner of his mouth that made Leslie’s youthful face seem twenty years older. “ _ Quod erat demonstrandum _ .”

“Don’t smart-ass me,” Sebastian growled. “Get out of the tub. Slowly. Hands up.”

“As you wish. Though I will say, I am not accountable for the actions of this body,” Ruvik said, but he raised his hands up and slowly stood. 

For a heartbeat or two, nothing happened. 

“Well?” Sebastian barked. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Ruvik said calmly, letting his hands fall back to his sides.

Sebastian raised the mop like a sword. “Don’t  _ fucking _ move! Get on your knees. Hands up and behind your head!”

“Do you even see the contradiction in this, I wonder?” Ruvik said with a smile, but at least he complied.

Sebastian didn’t look away as he reached behind him, fumbling the key out of the lock blindly. “You stay right there and don’t do anything funny, you hear me?” he growled. Ruvik muttered something under his breath that sounded like a comment on his humour, but Sebastian didn’t pay him any mind. Still watching him closely, he backed out of the bathroom, quickly jamming the key in the hole from the outside and locked the door. He took it with him just to be sure and sprinted into the living room.

His gun, surprisingly, was where he had left it, and the handcuffs too. He gathered both up and hurried back to the bathroom. “I’m coming in,” he called as he unlocked it. “You better be where I left you, Ruvik!”

He wasn’t. Ruvik sat on the brim of the bathtub, shoulders sagging and fingers steepled between his knees. His eyes were closed, but he looked up when Sebastian stepped closer with his weapon drawn.

Ruvik regarded the barrel of Sebastian’s .38 for a moment before sighing. “You're not gonna shoot me,” he told him, sounding a little exasperated, like explaining the same thing over and over. “You would kill Leslie.”

He said it so easily, like it was the fucking weather. 

Sebastian hoped the shaking in his hands wasn’t visible, but considering how calmy Ruvik stared at him with complete disregard of the firearm between them it was a slim chance. “You willing to put that theory to a test?” he said anyway. “Turn around.”

Ruvik’s compliance surprised him, to be honest. He just shrugged and turned, letting himself get handcuffed, but not without a clever comment: “Now what?”

“Shut up,” Sebastian muttered, making double-sure the handcuffs were really secure. “I’m figuring this out as I go along.”

“You have a history of that,” Ruvik said, stumbling along the hallway as Sebastian pushed him forward. “Interesting to see your behaviour from STEM carry over like this—usually subjects would—”

“I think I told you to  _ shut up _ ,” Sebastian growled, and he raised the gun and pressed it against Ruvik’s head—but seeing the muzzle pressed into white hair— _ Leslie’s  _ white hair—he knew he couldn’t pull the trigger.

Instead, he just pushed Ruvik back to the living room and sat him down on the couch, taking a seat himself in the chair opposed, pistol still in hand and pointed towards him. “Explain to me what's going on,” he demanded. Ruvik opened his mouth to speak, but Sebastian interrupted. “Use simple words.”

The kick Ruvik got out of that was obvious on his face. “Gladly. Well, Seb, as I’ve told you before, you got dragged into something that was none of your business—”

“You killed dozens of people! I’m pretty sure that makes it  _ exactly _ my business!”

Ruvik shrugged. “The cover-up was solid. For a while, anyway. But that’s not what I was getting at. Do you want me to explain or not?”

Sebastian sneered. “Fine. Go on.”

“I was trapped inside of STEM just like you were. Only that you had a physical body left to return to, and I didn’t.” Ruvik opened his arms triumphantly. “Leslie was my way out of that machine—and I succeeded.”

Sebastian sneered. “I  _ shot _ you!”

Ruvik rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Have you still not understood? It wasn’t real. The only reason people died in STEM is because they were not compatible with the host—with  _ me _ . That’s the only reason Leslie made it out alive. And you, for that matter.”

Something about the way he said it made Sebastian’s skin crawl. 

“So you really succeeded in your plans. You transferred yourself into Leslie’s brain.” Sebastian sagged back in the chair a little. It wasn’t like he hadn’t  _ feared _ that, but hearing it be true… It made no sense to ask, but he still had to. “All we did—it was all in vain?” 

“‘All you did’ was prolong the inevitable. There was no way any of you could have stopped me. Had Mobius sent someone more qualified than Kidman…” Ruvik shrugged. “Who knows.”

“Mobius?” Sebastian frowned. “I feel like I’ve heard that before…”

Ruvik just smiled at him. How he managed to be smug, being handcuffed and trapped in the body of a twenty-something, was beyond Sebastian.

When it was obvious that Ruvik wouldn’t answer, Sebastian sighed. “And now? You’re just gonna be Leslie?” Even when he had said it, he noticed something, and he stopped himself. “—wait, you  _ weren’t  _ him before. All that time yesterday, that was him, right? The real Leslie? I don’t buy you’re that good an actor.”

Ruvik’s face darkened. “As so often, things worked better in theory.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, to use  _ simple words _ , we share this body now. I thought I could override Leslie’s mind completely with mine, but with all of you trying to sabotage my work, I was under less than perfect conditions. The transfer was only partial.”

“So you’re, what, schizophrenic now?”

Ruvik actually flinched. “Your nescience is disturbing,” he said. “First of all, schizophrenic does  _ not _ mean what you think it means. You’re thinking of multiple personalities; schizophrenia is more connected to hallucinations. Second, no, I’m not. While many of my test subjects suffered from dissociative identity disorder—which is the term you’re looking for—Leslie initially did not. So it’s a little more complicated than that, and considering it’s the first time something like this has been done in the recorded history of science, it doesn’t have a name.” Ruvik smiled. “I’m calling it  _ dual cogitation  _ for the time being.”

“Oh, sure,” Sebastian groaned. “I bet you get off on getting to name it.”

“Always so crude,” Ruvik said, but there was no disgust in his voice, only delight. “Leslie hosts me, if you will. But he’s not aware I’m here.” He leaned back as if to get comfortable, but sat up straight when his arms pressed against the sofa cushions. “He has no control over me—but neither I over him, unfortunately. So far I haven’t figured out a solution. It’s hard without equipment, and without really controlling this body.”

Sebastian squinted as he tried to keep up. “So... That—your arm. That was him?”

“Subconsciously, yes. He saw you and acted on it although he’s not present. It’s a very literal case of alien hand syndrome, I suppose. I’m rather having trouble getting used to this body…” Ruvik grimaced, distorting Leslie’s face with it. “I am— _ was  _ right handed. Leslie isn’t. The fine motorics still prove to be difficult, I can’t even  _ write _ properly at the moment. And I have the suspicion Leslie might be myopic.” Ruvik ran the tip of his tongue over his front teeth, and Sebastian knew it was because of the chipped tooth. And then he fixed Sebastian again with a weird smile. “Being so short is also new. I remember you not so tall. No wonder he took a liking to you...”

Sebastian shook his head. “Stop talking about him in third person. For all I care, he’s sitting right there.”

Ruvik scoffed. “Would you rather I talk about myself? Well then,  _ I'm  _ left handed and short-sighted now, and it’s taking some getting used to!” he spat, clearly out of patience.

“For fuck’s sake,” Sebastian muttered.

Ruvik huffed and finally sank back against the couch cushions, brooding. 

Sebastian shook his head, letting the hand with the gun drop as he ran his left over his face. The nightmares in STEM had been a lot to deal with, but  _ this _ , knowing it was real, was an entirely different level. “I need a fucking drink,” he said to himself.

To his surprise, Ruvik perked up from his sulking. “Give me one, too.”

Sebastian was taken aback. “What?”

Ruvik licked his lips. “Alcohol helps keep Leslie’s conscious subdued,” he explained, shifting where he sat. 

“Why the fuck would I want that,” Sebastian said. “Why the fuck should I do anything you tell me.”

“Because I’m the only one who can do anything about this,” Ruvik answered, raising in his seat. “Because I am the only one  _ capable  _ of doing anything about this. What do you think you’ll do? Take me—take  _ Leslie _ to the Police? And then what? They’ll just lock him up at Beacon again, and  _ believe me _ I am capable of breaking out of a closed ward, even in a body like this.” He scoffed. “I’m not in love with sharing a body with an imbecile but you saw what I can do without any body at all. Do you want to see Beacon overflowing with corpses again, Seb?”

Sebastian drew in a shaky breath. There were many things he wanted to say, but all he managed was, “stop calling me that.”

“Of course,  _ Detective Castellanos _ .” Ruvik laughed a little, falling back into his seat. “But think things through before acting for once. You kidnapped Leslie. Your hands are already tainted. You can’t do anything now. What will you tell them? That the rich kid who has gone missing so many years ago has manifested himself in the brain of a mental hospital patient? Delicious. And even if they believed you—then what?”

“If you say another word, I swear to God I’ll shoot you!” Sebastian barked. 

Ruvik smiled at him and shook his head a little. “Like I said,” he said. “You will not harm a hair on Leslie’s body. For all I know, the foudroyant stress of being murdered might bring Leslie’s conscious back to the front. He would spend his last waking moments watching you kill him.”

Sebastian raised the gun again. “You’re making me think it would be worth it, Ruvik.”

“Then do it, Seb,” Ruvik taunted. “Nobody knows I’m here. I suggest a plastic bag over my head though, otherwise you’ll have a mess to clean up. Let me suffocate and dump me in a river. Maybe they’ll find the body, maybe they don’t. Either way, Leslie has no family left, not even a legal guardian with Jimenez dead. If you really want to get rid of me, kill me  _ right now _ .”

“You really want to die that badly?” Sebastian asked, staring into Ruvik’s steely eyes over the barrel.

“Yes!” Ruvik said, sounding all too eager. “I already died once. I’m looking forward to experiencing it a second time!”

Sebastian pulled the hammer back and Ruvik split Leslie’s gentle face in two with his smirk. “Do it!” he shouted. 

“Fuck!” Sebastian tore the gun back down and secured it. The worst was that for a damn split second he really thought he would do it—that he would pull the trigger and watch a bullet lodge itself right between Ruvik’s eyes. But they weren’t, were they; they were not Ruvik’s eyes, they were  _ Leslie’s. _

No matter how much Ruvik deserved to die, Leslie didn’t. 

Sebastian wiped over his eyes. “You’re a fucking psychopath!”

Sebastian heard Ruvik exhale a long breath, and when he looked up he saw him sink back into the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. Even with the distance between them, Sebastian could see the pulse under his white skin hammer rapidly, could see the glisten of sweat on his brow. So the bastard  _ was _ capable of emotion after all. 

But he didn’t let that hinder him, and despite his voice being a little shaky, he said: “Look up the definition of words before you go around throwing accusations at people, Seb. I’m a  _ sociopath _ , that’s not the same. I am perfectly capable of feeling empathy, I just decide not to act on it.”

“If you ask me that’s even worse,” Sebastian muttered. He put his gun back into his holster. There was no use for it anymore. He wouldn’t use it on Ruvik, and now, they both knew this. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“For a lesser mind like yours, I have no doubt it would seem that way.” Ruvik pulled in another shaky breath, leaning his head back against the cushions. “You know… I wasn’t always like this. I’ve suffered trauma to the prosencephalon as a kid. Now I share Leslie’s brain. I’m curious to see how it will affect my personality.”

When Sebastian looked up, Ruvik seemed composed again, and completely calm. “You really are, aren’t you,” Sebastian asked when it dawned on him. 

“Why should I lie to you?” Ruvik said with a smile.

“I don’t know, maybe because you tried to kill me a week ago?!”

Ruvik looked aside with a shrug. “That was then. I don’t dwell on the past.”

That actually got Sebastian to bark out a disbelieving laugh. “I’ve heard you say  _ a lot  _ of bullshit but  _ this _ really takes the cake.”

Ruvik sighed. “What I mean is: I have no more use in killing you. Unless you plan to kill me, in which case I will try to defend myself.” He shrugged again, looking Sebastian up and down with an expression Sebastian couldn’t read, and it made him feel queasy. 

“What?” he asked, hating that he sounded defensive.

“Nothing,” Ruvik said. “But rest assured so long as you don’t harm me, I won’t harm you, either. In STEM, you stood between me and what I wanted. You don’t anymore. In fact, you already turned out to be quite helpful. You took care of me.”

Sebastian felt dirty the way he said it. “I thought you were Leslie!” he defended himself.

Ruvik just smiled. “So you would have left me, if you had known?”

The truth was he wouldn’t have. Sebastian groaned and got up from the chair. “I really need that drink now,” he muttered. “You fucking stay where you are.”

“Vodka, if you have it.”

Sebastian sneered and didn’t turn back. “I don’t, I only drink whiskey.”

“You only drink to get drunk, don’t you? Both should be equally effective.” Even without looking, he could  _ hear _ Ruvik’s smirk. “So what’s the difference?”

That got him to turn back. “The taste, you fucking moron,” he barked. “Vodka is just—if I drank vodka, that’s—fuck—stop  _ smiling _ !” Sebastian couldn’t believe that he let Ruvik get under his skin with  _ this _ , after all he’d thrown at him. 

“I didn’t think there was a difference,” Ruvik said calmly, completely satisfied with riling Sebastian up like this. “But fine. Whiskey will do.”

Sebastian took a deep breath. “I’m not giving you whiskey, Ruvik.”

“Why not?”

It was such a superfluous question that Sebastian couldn’t help himself. “First of all, because  _ fuck you _ , that’s why,” he snarled. “Second, you already drank yourself nearly into a coma with that bottle yesterday. I think vodka’s a bit too much for someone with Leslie’s constitution. And if you want to control him, you’re not gonna do it by getting yourself blackout drunk. Especially not if  _ Leslie’s  _ the one who wakes up the next morning.” Ruvik looked at him with a frown. “Start with  _ beer _ for chrissakes. I didn’t start with hard liquor until—” Sebastian stared at Ruvik, and there was a gleam in his eyes that made the hair in his neck stand on edge. “—nevermind,” he muttered. “Fuck. Forget I said anything. I can’t believe you got me to—fuck.”

Ruvik looked entirely too pleased with himself. ”Beer then,” he conceded. “I trust your judgement on this one.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fine. What the hell.” Sebastian threw up his arms. Arguing with Ruvik would get him nowhere. Only a couple of minutes and already Sebastian was at the end of his nerves. He shot Ruvik a last glance as he turned, but the way Ruvik drew his legs in up to the couch to get more comfortable, he didn’t seem like he would try anything funny. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to run, either. 

What Ruvik had said about him was just as true in return. At least, that’s what Sebastian desperately told himself.

From the cupboards in the kitchen, Sebastian got the next best bottle of whiskey, and from the fridge, a can of beer. He took both over to the living room where Ruvik was still sitting like before, as if he hadn’t moved at all. 

His compliance was maybe the most unsettling thing Sebastian had witnessed so far.

Ruvik’s gaze calmly fell down to the can in his hands, and only then did Sebastian realize that Ruvik wouldn’t be able to drink with his hands still cuffed. He frowned, uncapped the whiskey, took a long drag and then sat down next to Ruvik and opened the can and held it up to his face.

“Drink,” he said.

Ruvik stared at him, but then his lashes flickered and he bowed down to press his lips against the brim of the can. Sebastian tipped it, saw Ruvik’s Adam’s apple bob, and then Ruvik recoiled, sputtering and wiping his wet chin on his shoulder.

“This tastes disgusting!” he said, his eyes wide. 

“Do you want me to get you some alcopops?” Sebastian growled, taking the can back. Judging by Ruvik’s puzzled face, the joke was lost on him though. Sebastian took another sip from his bottle and turned the can in his hand to examine it. To be fair, it really was disgusting, cheap beer—just enough to get buzzed. Sebastian hated that Ruvik’s comment about his ‘taste’ was right. The whiskey wasn’t even a Jack, either. It had stopped mattering long ago. 

Ruvik made a face. “This won’t do. I’m not drinking this.”

“I’m not here to pamper you, your majesty.”

“Fine!” Ruvik spat. And then, as if his host body was trying to make a point, he yawned. 

Sebastian stared at him. “Tired?”

“Yawning doesn’t correlate to fatigue,” Ruvik said, and promptly yawned again. “The cause hasn’t been found yet.”

Sebastian got up from the couch again, setting the can of beer down out of Ruvik’s reach. “Did you just admit to not knowing something?” he asked.

“I don’t  _ care _ . It’s a trivial matter,“ Ruvik said angrily. “I don’t have  _ time _ for banalities!”

“Sure,” Sebastian muttered and looked around as he did a quick surveillance of his apartment. The living room had three exists; the hallway to the front door, the hallway to bathroom and bedroom, and the balcony. Too many ways to get away. 

The bedroom only had a window facing the back yard. Being on the fifth floor, and without a fire escape, there was no way Ruvik would be able to get out, unless he had worn his  _ Assassin’s Creed  _ costume for a reason. Which Sebastian doubted.

“You can sleep in the bedroom again,” he continued. “But I’m handcuffing you to the bed.”

Ruvik gave him a look. But whatever he thought, he didn’t comment on, and just shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “I’m sure Leslie will love this.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m willing to take that risk,” he said. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll explain to him what happened. He needs to know.” 

Ruvik’s face darkened. “You will not.” His voice— _ Leslie’s  _ voice—had dropped to almost the baritone Sebastian first remembered hearing, distorted and faded in his recordings as it had been. To hear that voice from a face that  _ wasn’t _ Ruvik’s was positively disturbing, and a cold rush ran down Sebastian’s spine. He felt the hairs on his forearms and neck stand on end.

But he stood his ground, even though he didn’t feel like it. “Oh, will you stop me? I’d love to see you try,” he dared. “You told me you have no control over him! We’ll find a way to get rid of you.“

“No.” Ruvik stood up. “I forbid you.” If he tried to be imposing, he didn’t succeed; he was still a good chunk smaller than Sebastian and wore sweatpants. But that didn’t seem to deter him, and did absolutely nothing to alleviate the unrelenting harshness in his grey eyes. Sebastian could probably fold him in half with a single punch now, but the thing was,  _ he didn’t dare _ . 

“What’s it to you?” Sebastian had to stop himself from taking a step back. Small or not, Ruvik was too close for comfort. “You said you want to die, anyway.”

“I don’t want to just  _ fade away _ ! Not again!”

There was something in Ruvik’s voice that sounded like  _ fear _ . Coupled with Leslie’s vulnerable face, Sebastian felt a throbbing ache in his heart. 

He had never experienced a clash of feelings quite as this. To think someone like Ruvik might have some fucked up, shriveled and rotten humanity left in him—after all Sebastian had seen, all he had lived through, it seemed like just another sick hallucination on top of all the nightmares.

He didn’t know what to say, and Ruvik just  _ stared _ at him. 

“Do what you will,” Ruvik said finally. “It’s not like it matters. There’s nothing  _ either _ of you could do.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Ruvik,” Sebastian said. “Either way I’m not letting you run free now that I have you. I  _ will _ figure out what to do with you.”

Ruvik sneered. “Your IQ is barely average, and you keep damaging your brain with one drunken stupor after another. What will you do,  _ punch  _ me out of Leslie’s body?”

Sebastian scoffed right back. “If that works? Fuck yeah I will.” He crossed his arms defiantly. “Don’t wet yourself over being so damn smart. It’ll do you no good without your lab and guinea pigs. Without STEM, you’re nothing.”

“If only you realized how wrong you are.” Ruvik leaned forward into Sebastian’s space, and when Sebastian took a step back, he felt the chair push against his legs. “I built it once. I can build it again. I don’t need a lab and I don’t need my research. I remember it all. So long as I am here, I have everything I need.”

Sebastian could feel Ruvik’s breath ghost over his chin. He frowned. “I think it’s time you stopped talking. Don’t make me gag you, too.” He reached out and grabbed Ruvik by the shoulder to push him back. To his surprise, Ruvik flinched under the pressure and roughness of it. For a split second, Sebastian feared it was Leslie reacting to it, but he shook himself out of it and pushed Ruvik bodily out of the living room and to the bedroom. 

Ruvik seethed all the while, but didn’t do or say anything. Judging from the way his feet dragged and his shoulders bumped into the walls, he really wasn’t very good at handling Leslie’s body. He might as well have been drunk. 

Sebastian was cautious as he uncuffed Ruvik’s right hand, but Ruvik didn’t try anything as Sebastian cuffed him to the upper bedpost. “Go the fuck to sleep so I can have a normal conversation with Leslie tomorrow,” he said, throwing the blanket over Ruvik just because he didn’t want  _ Leslie _ to get cold. 

“A normal conversation,” Ruvik taunted, settling into the bed as comfortably as his position would him allow. “With Leslie. That is precious.”

“You know what I mean, asshole,” Sebastian said, killed the lights and slammed the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s play a game of “how openly gay can I make ruvik and get away with it.” :³ Someone stop me from calling this fic “Two and a half men.” I get the feeling I'm writing a very bizarre 90's sitcom and _boy am I having fun doing it._
> 
> Comments, criticism, thoughts? I'd love to hear what you think so far. It means a lot. ♥


	3. Regression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter gets an extra warning for Ruvik's pyrophobia getting triggered. it's brief but i want y'all to stay safe. <3 (Seb, you ass)

Sebastian woke with a start; one of these weird moments when it feels like you’re falling, heart pounding and mind struggling to keep up with reality.

It was still grey and early. He had barely slept at all.

He was soaked in sweat and still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. The day before yesterday, really. Maybe even before that? He didn’t fucking remember. All things considered, personal hygiene, once more, seemed like a very trivial matter.

_ Ruvik _ , he thought. And then, more urgently,  _ Leslie! _

He scrambled to get to his feet, staggering as he rushed down the hallway to the bedroom. He carefully pushed the door open.

Huddled under the blankets was the small lump that was Leslie’s body. Sebastian carefully stepped closer, noting the slow rise and fall of breathing. 

Whoever he was right now, he was sleeping. Despite the left hand being cuffed to the bedpost, he looked peaceful. Leslie’s face seemed so innocent without Ruvik’s calculated stare. 

Sebastian didn’t know what to think. He felt painfully protective of Leslie, but now, knowing he  _ wasn’t only Leslie _ , it was like there was an invisible wall between them. Sebastian didn’t dare to touch him, suddenly.

“Breakfast,” he muttered. No matter whether Ruvik or Leslie would wake up, food was substantial. It was Leslie’s body either way, and he was malnourished and needed to eat.

Unfortunately, his stock was as pathetic as it had been yesterday. Sebastian strung together a thread of creative curses as he rummaged through what little he had, but when even his toast had gone bad, he realized he had no other choice but to leave the apartment to go get groceries. 

He didn’t know what was worse, the prospect of leaving Ruvik behind, or Leslie.

_ It will be fine _ , he thought as he peeled himself out of his stinking clothes to take a much-needed shower.  _ He’s cuffed to the headboard. There’s no way he can free himself.  _

_ It will be fine _ , he thought as he put on clean clothes.  _ I’ll be back before he wakes up. _

_ It will be fine _ , he thought as he left the apartment, locking the door behind him. 

If only he could believe it.

 

*

 

For the first time since Lily, Sebastian stopped in the cereal aisle of the supermarket, staring at approximately 372 variations of Kellogg’s. Leslie was childlike, he would love cereal, wouldn’t he? Maybe Smacks, or Frosties? 

The idea to make Ruvik eat tiny rainbow-colored cereal rings made him pick Fruit Loops.

But he also got eggs and bacon because he honestly couldn’t remember when he’d last had eggs and bacon. And then he got some wheat and milk because pancakes crossed his mind, and after  _ that  _ he thought he should maybe get something to whip out some  _ actual  _ food; pasta and vegetables and some fruit. 

He realized, suddenly, he had no idea how long this would last—a few days he was prepared for, but what if these days turned into weeks? Months? Even  _ longer _ than that?

He would have to find a solution for this, and fast. He hated that Ruvik was right. Simply returning Leslie to Beacon was out of the question, and even though Sebastian knew that Jimenez and Ruvik’s secret STEM experiments were over, Sebastian didn’t trust that place anymore. Not after what he had been through.

He pushed his cart through the aisles without paying much attention, but he stopped when he came past sales. He wasn’t even thinking about it, but the bright red colors screamed all the way to his occupied mind. He blinked as he reoriented himself, and stared down at a grab basket full of clothes. 

There was the mental image of Leslie sitting there with Sebastian’s too big shirt on him, and the ill-fitting clothes that he had been in before when he found him in the park. Sebastian dug through the basket until he found a black hoodie and blue jeans that might just fit a little better. 

He wondered where these clothes had come from—the one he found Leslie in in the park. When he had last seen him, he still wore Beacon’s straight jacket. 

Without asking for it, Dr García’s voice came back to him.  _ Maybe someone enabled him _ , she said.

_ I am capable of breaking out of a closed ward _ , Ruvik answered, unprompted.  _ Even in a body like this. _

“Guess that explains that,” Sebastian muttered, still staring at the clothes he had picked out. “I’d pay good money to see that, though, considering the state he’s in.” 

When a woman that passed him by gave him a weird look, he pushed the clothes into his cart and was on his way.

 

*

 

When he unlocked his apartment and entered the door, he heard Leslie’s voice call out his name from the bedroom. He sounded distressed, and Sebastian cursed as he dropped his groceries right on the floor.

“Leslie?” he said, throwing his trenchcoat over the back of the couch as he rushed through the apartment.

“Sebastian?” Leslie called. Something about his frightened tone made very clear that it actually  _ was _ him. 

“I’m here,” Sebastian said, barging through the bedroom door. Leslie sat half upright, skin around the handcuff chafed and red, like he had tried to get out for the last thirty minutes. He pulled at it again when he saw Sebastian. 

“Sebastian, help!”

Sebastian basically fell into the room and toward the bed. “It’s alright, Leslie, I’m here, I’m here,” he said, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and running his hands soothingly up and down a few times. “Hold on, let me get those open.”

Only when Leslie settled down a little, and Sebastian in turn felt the panic subside, did he see that Leslie’s pudgy cheeks were wetted with tears. It was enough to make him feel terrible all over again. “Have you been awake for long?” he asked as he dug through his pants for the key, opening the handcuffs.

Leslie whimpered and pulled his hand in to himself, holding on to the sensitive wrist. He shook his head, but Sebastian didn’t think it was an answer. 

“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t run off,” he said, leaning in again to rub comfortingly over Leslie’s shoulders, but this time, he flinched back, and stared at Sebastian from big, fearful eyes.

“Run?” he echoed, his voice so tiny and confused. An intense hatred for Ruvik started to churn in Sebastian’s gut then; for taking someone as vulnerable and innocent as Leslie and trying to make him nothing but a pawn, even outside of STEM.

“Come,” Sebastian said, trying to smile at Leslie despite all this. “I’ll explain. But you gotta pick breakfast first, what do you say?”

Leslie looked pensive, but nodded slowly. Sebastian went ahead into the kitchen and waited for him shuffling after him at his own pace, not wanting to seem to pressuring when Leslie clearly needed space. He started putting the groceries away before Leslie finally appeared.

“Hope you like Fruit Loops,” Sebastian said, giving the carton a shake. The rustling noises caught Leslie’s attention, and he tracked it with his eyes as Sebastian sat it down. “They come with a toy,” he continued, as if his stomach wasn’t a pit of dread. “You want some?”

“Yes,” Leslie said. He still sounded very careful, and he was back to his hunched-up posture avoiding eye contact, but Sebastian told himself the fact that he spoke on his own was good. 

Though he wasn’t done with putting the groceries away, he found Leslie a bowl and a spoon and poured him milk over his cereal. “And you get, ah,” he said as he fished out of the box a little figure of whatever the kids thought was cool these days, “this.”

Leslie accepted both from his hands. It was reassuring to see him eat and play, even though he seemed withdrawn. Sebastian couldn’t even fucking blame him. He gave the boy time while he busied himself around the kitchen just to give himself a reason to stick around so he could observe him. 

He seemed entirely like Leslie-ish, for lack of a better word. He had the posture, the blank eyes, the nonsensical muttering to himself. Even his voice was back to normal, and it was a long stretch to think back to what Ruvik had made those soft lips and gentle mouth say. Leslie was like a prime example for innocence. 

But he was still  _ there  _ right now, wasn’t he—Ruvik, observing from Leslie’s eyes. Watching him prod his Fruit Loops around in the bowl and singing softly to himself. Watching Leslie’s hands play with his toy. Watching Sebastian.

_ Fuck _ , Sebastian thought.  _ This is fucking weird. _

Finally, he sat down with Leslie at the tiny table with a cup of coffee. Leslie ate slowly and what was once cereal was turning into brown mush, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

He didn’t seem keen on contact, or talking. He fiddled with his little toy figure and pushed his cereal around in his bowl.

Sebastian stared at him, wondering what he was supposed to say. And  _ how _ . Goddamn he didn’t want Ruvik to be right, he  _ would _ find a way to make this work, but a little help would have been nice.

_ Ruvik. Are you there? _ he thought, staring into Leslie’s eyes.  _ If you can hear me, say something, goddammit.  _

There was no reply. Sebastian looked away, feeling foolish. He cleared his throat and finally plucked up his courage. “I’m sorry about before,” he said, and Leslie lifted his head, staring just a few inches past Sebastian’s eyes. “It won’t happen again. It was a bad thing I did to you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Leslie muttered.

Sebastian nodded and ran a hand through his hair, rubbed his neck. “I don’t really know how to say this,” he started, then paused. 

_ A normal conversation with Leslie _ , Ruvik’s word echoed in his head.  _ Precious.  _

“Fuck!” Sebastian muttered, and Leslie flinched. Sebastian immediately regretted it. “Sorry,” he said again. “So, uh… You know how you have amnesia, right?” Leslie’s stare was blank. “I mean… Like, uh… Blackouts. Time you don’t remember. You know that, right? You don’t remember how you ended up drunk in that park.”

Leslie blinked and then lowered his head again to continue eating. Sebastian held in a sigh. “Leslie,” he said carefully. “I need you to talk to me. Do you know that you’re missing memories?”

“Memories,” Leslie muttered, and again, “Missing memories.” And then that a few times over. 

“Leslie,” Sebastian said again, more urgently, He extended a hand, wanted to grab Leslie’s to focus his attention, but something ( _ he was Ruvik _ ) made Sebastian draw back before he did. 

He emptied the last of his coffee in one swig. “Forget it,” he said as he put the mug down. “We’ll try again later.”

He got up and left Leslie in the kitchen to find something to drink and a smoke.

 

*

 

As he stood on the balcony and smoked, he saw Leslie shuffling around in the living room. Sebastian frowned as he tapped ash down into the depth, watching as Leslie made his way to the couch. Sebastian had mindlessly thrown the clothes he had bought for him there, unfolded and tags still attached.

Leslie picked up the black hoodie and held it pensively in his hands. Buried his face inside of it, emerged with an expression that said “I’ve inhaled too many fabrication chemicals,” but continued to carefully rub and pet the fabric.

Sebastian had a bad feeling and pushed the balcony door open with his foot. “Leslie?” he asked around a plume of smoke.

“Ruvik,” he replied without bothering to look up. “What is this? It’s very soft.”

“I… What?” Sebastian didn’t know what to do. He struggled to keep up—suddenly Leslie was Ruvik again, just like that. Sebastian didn’t know what he had expected; a puff of smoke and a sound effect, or maybe screaming and limbs twitching. But this wasn’t the movies, was it, and it just happened like this, silently.

Sebastian felt tense and weary the second Ruvik closed his mouth, but there was no sight of mind games or other secret plans. Ruvik seemed completely entranced with the hoodie and didn’t even pay attention to him. He was turning the hoodie inside out and inspected the tags.

Sebastian put the cigarette back between his lips and thought he would just observe, for now. “Just a sweatshirt,” he said cautiously, shrugging with one shoulder. 

Ruvik finally looked up and Sebastian flinched a little. It was crazy how much the current personality that was up front changed the features of the same person. It  _ was _ Leslie’s face, but he  _ looked _ like Ruvik. 

“Cotton,” Ruvik said simply. “I don’t… remember cotton.”

“Huh?” Sebastian was too busy staring at his face, trying to pinpoint what had changed.

“My somatosensory system was damaged in the burn,” Ruvik explained, and then, upon Sebastian’s blank expression, heaved a sigh. “I wasn’t able to experience tactile sensations. No fingerprints anymore, either. Everything was just scarred and numb.” He shrugged a little and looked back down to the hoodie he was still holding, rubbing it with his thumbs. “Like neuropathy. I’ve taught myself how to use my hands and fingers despite this, trained myself fine motorics again, how to use a scalpel, how to sew, how to use all surgical tools I needed, but I’ve never  _ felt _ anything again.” He looked up again, staring right into Sebastian’s eyes. “It’s been almost twenty years since I’ve been able to feel  _ anything _ , Seb.”

Sebastian just stared at him. He felt inadequate in so many ways. “I…” he started, then closed his mouth, because there was nothing he could possibly say.

Ruvik’s eyes softened, but it did nothing to make him look less condescending. “It’s just cotton, but  _ everything  _ is new to me.” He carefully folded the hoodie and put it back on the couch. “Additionally,” he said conversationally, “Leslie’s synesthesia has carried over to me. I knew of course what it was like, but  _ experiencing  _ it is new.” 

Sebastian shook himself out of his funk. “What’s that mean?” he asked, flicking the cigarette butt into the streets, and came back into the living room.

Ruvik wrinkled his nose when Sebastian carried with him the stench of cigarette smoke. And when he saw that Sebastian went for the box of cigarettes on the coffee table, he, very pointedly, said: “I would prefer it if you didn’t smoke.”

Sebastian stared him right in the eyes as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. “I don’t care,” he said. “Because this is  _ my _ place, and you don’t tell me to do  _ shit _ .”

“Only fair,” Ruvik mused. And then he said: “What about Leslie's lungs, though?”

Sebastian was still glaring at him, but Ruvik just stared back. Finally, but without breaking eye contact, Sebastian snagged the cigarette from between his lips and stabbed it out again, knowing he was being blackmailed but unable to do anything about it.

“So,” he said as he straightened himself up. “Synesthesia. You see music now or some shit?”

“Ignorant as always,” Ruvik chided. “No, it’s not as easy as that. I’m still figuring things out. It’s much more  _ elaborate  _ and...” He gestured vaguely, staring at nothing as he sorted through his thoughts, and Sebastian felt his stomach lurch at how much Leslie’s innocence bled into his features. Then Ruvik gathered himself up with a sigh, and the spell was gone. “No matter,” he muttered. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. Can you give me a journal? Something to write in.”

“Funny how you insult me and then want stuff from me without even taking a fucking breath in-between.” Sebastian shook his head. “What now? You’re gonna write your autobiography?”

“I could do without your sarcasm at times,” Ruvik said, very matter-of-factly. “No. Like I said, I need to reteach myself how to write.  _ Again _ . And I want to take notes. I don’t know how much time I have before Leslie comes back, and I don’t want to forget something that might be important.”

Sebastian crossed the living room, keeping a cautious distance between them, but there was something reassuring about how Ruvik had to tip his head up to look at him when they were close. Sebastian leaned his hip against the backrest of the couch and crossed his arms. “Just yesterday you were all high and mighty about how you don’t forget shit,” he said, because something about Ruvik’s constant degrading hurt. A little.

Ruvik groaned. “Just give me something to occupy my mind with, I can  _ feel _ how I’m mentally disintegrating.”

Happy with the reaction he got, Sebastian decided to test the waters some more. “Leslie seemed to be fine with the Fruit Loops toy,” he challenged.

Ruvik looked entirely exasperated, which gave Sebastian the weirdest sense of accomplishment. “Brain waves aside, Leslie and I have very little in common. He’s so—”

At this point, all caution aside, Sebastian extended a finger and jabbed Ruvik hard in the chest. “Say  _ one _ bad word about Leslie,” he growled, “and I’ll reconsider the ‘no killing you’ part.”

Ruvik made a little pained noise and stumbled back, rubbing a hand over his chest. His eyes were wide when he looked up. “That  _ hurt _ ,” he accused.

“Pain new for ya, too?” Sebastian grunted. “Because there’s more where that came from, if you keep talking shit.”

“Interesting,” Ruvik muttered, and Sebastian supposed it wasn’t meant for him. He kept rubbing at his chest. “No,” he said then, “pain isn’t exactly new. In fact, I think I am intimately familiar with it. However,  _ this _ ...”

Sebastian felt the hair on his neck and forearms stand on end the way Ruvik’s voice dipped. “Stop saying weird shit,” he said through his teeth.

When Ruvik looked up, he seemed unfocused for a moment, as if he had completely forgotten that Sebastian was there. For a second, Sebastian thought that maybe Leslie was back, but then Ruvik said calmly: “One more reason to provide me with something to write.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Anything to make him stop talking, Sebastian thought as he threw up his arms in surrender. “I think I have some spare notepads in the office.” He waved a finger at Ruvik, who flinched and eyed the offending appendage like it was a snake in the grass. But Sebastian refrained from jabbing him again. “Wait here,” he said. “No funny business.”

“I am not known for my sense of humor, Seb.” 

Sebastian didn’t do him the honor of sticking around for the conversation. “Besides being a fucking serial-killing maniac, I doubt you’re known for anything,” he muttered as he headed for the hallway and opened the door to his office. He grimaced as he was crudely reminded of its state. He hadn’t been in here for a while, certainly not for work. The desk was cluttered with papers, empty coffee mugs and ashtrays. The air smelled of dusty paper and ash. Sebastian wasn’t exactly proud of it, and that was why he didn’t enter it anymore. Out of sight, out of mind...

“Technically,” he heard Ruvik say, and bastard raised his voice to make sure Sebastian would hear him in the office, “I have several doctorates in neurobiology and neuropsychology.”

“You never went to university, smart-ass,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, stepping over piles of books and notes on the floor to rummage through his desk. He was fairly sure he had spare notepads  _ somewhere _ ...

“No, but Jimenez ripped off my work for years,” Ruvik answered, and Sebastian jumped because he sounded close. When he looked up, Ruvik was leaning against the doorframe. Holding on to it, more like—he looked shaken again, like he was fighting Leslie at the same time. Ruvik’s tone however didn’t let it on; he sounded haughty as always. “Did you really think that buffoon was capable of writing a dissertation? Please.” 

Sebastian found one of his notepads in one of the drawers of his desk and got up. “You know what, I don’t want to have this conversation,” he said and handed it to Ruvik. “Here. Now shut the fuck up.”

“Much obliged,” Ruvik said, and his lips twitched in half a smile, half a grimace. He seemed taken by surprise by it, because he looked away quickly, pressing a shaking hand against his mouth. 

It was the furrow in Leslie’s white brows that fooled Sebastian into feeling concern. “You alright?” he asked cautiously.

Ruvik shot him a look. “Besides being the recessive part of two personalities in one body?  _ Fine _ .”

“Now, I don't have ‘several doctorates’ in  _ parapsychology  _ or whatever,” Sebastian said, closing the door loud enough to drown out Ruvik’s hissed “ _ neuro _ psychology!” He continued as if he hadn’t heard him: “But what if you stopped fighting him for a second?”

Ruvik frowned up at him. “That is ridiculous,” he said.

Sebastian shrugged. “Whatever you say, doc,” he muttered, brushing past Ruvik.

To his surprise, Ruvik grabbed his shirt, keeping him there. “No,” he said, voice dipping like it did when he threatened him. Sebastian’s survival instinct kicked in and he had Ruvik’s small wrist in his hands, ready to break his bones, and if he hadn’t remembered it was Leslie’s body in time, he would have done it, too.

They remained poised like that for a long heartbeat, until Ruvik exhaled a slow breath. “Don’t,” he said. “You called Jimenez that. Don’t call  _ me  _ that.”

Sebastian felt Ruvik’s pulse hammer under his index and middle finger. “What?” he barked, completely perplexed.

“ _ Doc _ ,” Ruvik stressed. “You will  _ not _ call me that. I want you to say my name.”

Sebastian startled at that, and the grip he had on Ruvik eased a little. Ruvik untangled his fingers from Sebastian’s shirt, leaving it crinkled.

They let go of each other.

Sebastian didn’t know what to say or do. “Whatever,” he muttered, realizing he sounded defensive. Why did Ruvik always have to say such weird things that made Sebastian queasy? 

“Jeez,” he added and shrugged. “Pen’s in the kitchen. Go do your nerd stuff and leave me in peace for a hot second, okay?”

“Gladly,” Ruvik said, again with a smooth smile up at him.

“Christ,” Sebastian muttered to himself and fled the hallway for the safety of a cigarette on the balcony. The presence of smoke, he figured, would keep Ruvik away.

_ That’s what you get for adopting a little schizophrenic _ , Sebastian thought, thinking the latter pointedly in Ruvik’s direction, just in case.

 

*

 

Ruvik watched as Sebastian retreated to the balcony to further slather his lungs with tar. He sneered a little at it, but at least that gave him the peace of mind to write down a few things. 

Ruvik leaned his head to the side, then slowly downward, recalling before his inner eye each muscle and tendon he used, the form and shape of the  _ vertebrae cervicales _ beneath those. The movement was easy enough; he was met with no surprises. 

He counted his breath until his pulse had calmed down.

When he looked up, Sebastian was leaning with his forearms on the balcony, blowing smoke into the air. It was windy; his hair was getting pulled to the side and the plumes got torn immediately. Regardless, he didn’t seem like he wanted to get back in anytime soon.

Ruvik blinked two times, thrice, trying to refocus from Sebastian in the distance to the notepad he was holding in his hands, only an arm’s length away. It slowly came back into focus, and Ruvik rubbed a fingertip over it.

It was cheap quality; paper-bound, glued crudely. The edges were fringed from bad cutting. From Sebastian’s memories Ruvik knew he bought his notepads in bulk, ten for ten. At work, he kept them in the left front pocket of his trench coat; the trench coat his wife had given him. Ruvik knew this from Sebastian’s memories too: It hadn’t been a birthday gift or anything. They had gone shopping, and she had pulled it out from the rack, made a joke about Sebastian needing it for his detective image. Sebastian had laughed. Protested half-heartedly. She bought it for him. He had worn it ever since.

Ruvik now held one of these little notepads. Although he thought he knew them so intimately, it was the first time he could  _ feel  _ one for himself. He could even bring it up to his face and smell it. Without even hesitating, he pressed it against his lips, let the paper scratch against his chapped skin.

It was quite the novelty.

Walking always was a challenge: Lift one knee, angle ankle, set the foot down, shift balance,  _ keep _ balance, repeat with other leg. He wasn’t fast, and he wasn’t steady. He was glad for the close proximity of the walls he could hold on to if he felt like he needed it. 

The distance to the kitchen table was the shortest. Getting to a chair, Ruvik already felt exhausted. Maybe he needed to focus  _ less _ , he thought, because he noticed he pulled up the chair without problems.

But there was always this  _ fear _ sitting in his neck; Phobos, only he looked and sounded like Leslie. Ruvik thought he could hear him even now, hear his tiny voice,  _ the voice that was his own now _ , calling for help, for Sebastian. Wanting to get out. Get out, get out.

“Get away,” Ruvik muttered. “Get away.”

_ No _ —that sounded _ too familiar _ . Before he knew it, his right hand—he was left-handed now, he couldn’t help but think—curled into a fist and slammed down on the table. It surprised him and he flinched back. He took a shaky breath. It was quiet again. He strained his ears, but he heard nothing besides the blood pumping through his head.

“I  _ will _ get rid of you,” Ruvik said, enunciating each syllable slowly and carefully, like his tongue was lame with sedation. “I’ve come too far not to.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He was alone, and after a while, he felt like he was back in control. 

He picked up one of the ball point pens on the kitchen table with his left hand, awkwardly positioning it to write. Before, he would prefer fountain pens and ink; it looked more sophisticated and he preferred it this way. He wasn’t surprised though that Sebastian only bought cheap quality.

And, Ruvik thought bitterly, admittedly trying to re-learn how to write with a fountain pen wouldn’t make things easier. 

He opened the notebook, carefully folding the pages. Without patience for practice today, Ruvik looked towards the flashing time of the microwave to carefully write it down. It seemed that no matter how much time he spent on each number, they were still deformed, and it irritated him. Nevertheless, once he had finished the time and date, he moved on to writing a journal entry.

After beginning the first sentence, he quickly came to regret that he thought he could write full sentences. It took forever, and his hand simply wouldn’t obey the way he wanted it to. He abandoned that plan, stringing together shorter notes instead and got lost in his thoughts for a while. 

“What are you writing?” Sebastian asked behind him, and Ruvik jumped because he hadn’t heard him approach.

Leslie flared up behind his forehead like a forest fire and Ruvik needed to close his eyes for a moment to force him back down.

“You stink of smoke,” he said, and turned just in time for Sebastian to blow a plume of cigarette smoke in his face. 

Ruvik flinched back and in his alarm inhaled sharply. He felt smoke burn down his trachea, spreading out into each bronchiole. 

He felt his diaphragm cramp and close up. 

As if trying to expel all the smoke again, he suddenly couldn’t inhale anymore; the air ( _ smoke _ ) just got stuck in his throat. His hands felt stiff and cold and sweat seemed to pour out from every of his pores; on his brows, under his arms, between his fingers. Somewhere, he heard Laura’s distant screaming.

Ruvik choked. 

He stared at Sebastian in horror, and then lost consciousness.

 

*

 

Ruvik withered like a plant in harsh sunlight. His body lost all tension, he collapsed in on himself like a demolished building, and toppled down from the chair unto the kitchen floor.

“Holy shit,” Sebastian said, falling to his knees instinctively to grab Ruvik, whose head lolled back from the pull of gravity. “What the fuck?” Sebastian said, seeing his eyelids flicker. They were only half-closed, and beneath the ring of pale eyelashes he could see his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

“Hey. Can you hear me? What the fuck happened?” Sebastian demanded as he pulled Ruvik’s slumped body into a half-sitting position.

His eyes opened. “Sebastian?” he said, staring at Sebastian. There wasn’t a real  _ thing _ that had changed; they were steely gray and round and pretty, lashes batting a few times as the world came back into focus. 

But there was so much fear there, suddenly.

Sebastian frowned. “Leslie?” he asked, wrapping an arm around his shuddering shoulders.

Leslie looked around, drawing his arms and legs in to himself, cradling himself against Sebastian’s chest. “I’m… back?” he asked, looking up at Sebastian as if looking for an answer. “Leslie is back?”

Sebastian ran a hand over Leslie’s head, smoothing away a few hairs from his round forehead. There was a thin film of cold sweat there. “You… do you remember?” he asked. “Do you know what happened?”

“It was—it was dark,” Leslie said. He sought comfort in Sebastian’s arms like a scared child. “It was dark, so dark. Silent.”

Sebastian couldn’t help himself, he drew Leslie in closer. “It’s okay, Leslie, I got you,” he said into his hair. “You’re okay now.”

“No. No.” Leslie shook his head, nuzzling his face against the nook between Sebastian’s chest and shoulder while he was held. “It was dark. It was silent.”

“That must have been scary.” Sebastian sat there on his kitchen floor, holding the kid against him comfortingly, hoping to ease his anxiety some. 

Again, Leslie shook his head, and Sebastian thought it was to get rid of the memory of being repressed, but then Leslie said, “No.—Leslie wants to go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a massive THANK YOU ♥ for all your comments and kudos! I've been asked whether this fic will have plot, and _yes_ , it will! but I like to take my time, because I have so much fun writing these characters, and everyone loves a good slow burn, right?
> 
> and a special shout-out to derry, for all your support. i really couldn't do it without you.


	4. Chronification

The evening brought light rain. 

Leslie stayed. He stood on Sebastian’s balcony, laughing softly every time a raindrop hit his face.

It was weird to think about; then again, it was weird to think anything at all. Everything Sebastian did seemed so unreal, and in all honesty, he hoped he would just wake up in a tub again so he could unplug himself from this bizarre dream.

But Leslie stayed, and Sebastian had to adapt around him.

After Ruvik left— _ retreated _ ? Sebastian still wasn’t entirely sure  _ why _ , and it occurred to him much too late that it might have been because of what  _ he _ had done—Sebastian had helped get Leslie back on his feet, but Leslie had gotten sidetracked by his own thoughts, and picking up the conversation about what he experienced while Ruvik was taking over his body was impossible after that.

Sebastian stood in the kitchen, making mac and cheese for the first time since Lily, and thought of what he ought to do.

Dinner came and went without anything remarkable happening. For all Sebastian knew, Leslie might as well have forgotten again about all the things happening in the past week. He certainly seemed like it, living only in the moment without worrying about what had he had done and said just moments ago. 

Not knowing what to do with Leslie, Sebastian had found a TV channel that played cartoons, and together they sat on the couch, Leslie entirely entranced by the moving pictures, and Sebastian lost in thought. 

At one point, he noticed how dark it had gotten, his living room only illuminated by the cold light of the TV. He went up to switch on the lights, and Leslie let out a soft, startled sound.

“It’s okay, Leslie, I only switched on the light,” Sebastian soothed from the other end of the room. “See? I flipped the switch,” he said, switching the light off and on again. “You know electricity, don’t you; nothing to be frightened of.” 

Leslie’s white head popped up over the couch. “Light?” he echoed.

“Yeah. You wanna try it?”

Leslie nodded slowly, and then his cartoons were all but forgotten as he scrambled over to where Sebastian stood by the light switch at the door. Sebastian watched as Leslie flipped the switch a few times, gaze wandering between the little device at the wall and the lights at the ceiling.

Finally, he switched the lights off with a sense of finality. “Dark,” he said.

Sebastian watched his features in the twilight of the room, how the changing colors from the TV ghosted over his face, throwing irregular shapes of shadow over him. 

“Is dark good?” he asked, uncertain. For him, knowing there were shadows in every corner, giving something a place to hide and wait, was increasingly uncomfortable—like any second now, something could creep up from the floor, slithering under his pants and onto his skin, like long, spidery fingers—

He had never been afraid of the dark. He didn’t think he was, now. All the same, light had gained something comforting that before Beacon, it hadn’t possessed.

“Yes,” Leslie said. Sebastian could see his eyes shine as he looked over the living room. He made a little sound. “No,” he said then, shuffling closer to Sebastian. “I don’t know?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t like the dark,” Sebastian said. He carefully extended a hand, hoping to soothe Leslie a little with physical contact. Leslie flinched, but relaxed against his hand when he realized it was Sebastian. “Many people don’t,” Sebastian continued. “See things in the shadows, you know. Like in nightmares.”

“Yes,” Leslie muttered. Still, he didn’t switch the light back on. “No. It’s different. It’s different, not the same.”

“What is?” Sebastian asked. He kept watch of Leslie’s face, hoping he could gauge his reaction, maybe finally pry some information from the boy’s head. But there was something about him that made him unreadable to Sebastian, like his eyes were made of glass with nothing behind them to be read.

“The dark,” Leslie said. “It’s not the same as before. It’s not the same. I don’t like this dark, I don’t like this.”

Sebastian dared not to breathe. “What was the dark like before?” he asked softly.

Leslie stared ahead, to the TV screen illuminating the room. “Good,” he murmured. “It felt good. It was… nice.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to say to that. He had only a very rudimentary understanding of what was going on, and he imagined Leslie knew even less—as far as Sebastian understood, Leslie didn’t even  _ know _ Ruvik was there with him. But Leslie, upon being himself again, had almost immediately said that he wanted to go back.

Back—where to? A kind of weird oblivion, some sort of Nirvana?  _ Death _ ?

Suddenly, Leslie shuffled back to the couch in the center of the living room. He sat down and grabbed one of the throw pillows, holding it in his arms for a moment before pushing himself into the corner of the couch, curling in on himself and pressing his face deep into the pillow. 

Sebastian would have laughed, would have taken it as a childish gesture, but there was something deeply disconcerting about seeing the boy smother himself. With some alarm, Sebastian crossed the distance to the couch, grabbing the pillow.

“Hey,” he said and tried to yank it back, but Leslie held surprisingly firm. “Hey, stop that!”

“No, no!” Leslie tried to slap Sebastian’s hands away until Sebastian withdrew, and then Leslie buried his face back in the pillow. “I want dark.”

“You’ll suffocate yourself, Leslie,” Sebastian said, sitting down on the couch. “You can’t—” He tried to grab the pillow again, and this time, Leslie actually whimpered and kicked him. Sebastian grunted and retreated. “Goddammit Leslie, you can’t have the  _ dark  _ you want by sticking your head in a pillow!” 

Leslie held still with the air of someone not wanting to admit a mistake. But Sebastian heard how he breathed shallowly for a while, and eventually, he came up for air. “Leslie wants to go back to the dark place!” he whined, and Sebastian was shocked to see that his eyes were wet with tears. 

“Christ,” he muttered, and he gently took Leslie’s hands into his own. Leslie didn’t resist this time, just whimpered softly and fell against Sebastian’s chest. Sebastian sighed and tugged him in closer, tucking him under his chin and rubbing soothingly over his arms and back. Leslie muttered to himself, cradling the pillow in his arms for comfort.

“Look,” he said when Leslie had calmed down a little. “The… dark place, yes? You can’t go back there. It’s… bad.” He wasn’t even sure about it, but whatever Ruvik had done to Leslie when he was repressed, Sebastian would  _ not _ let it stand. “Maybe it feels good, but it’s not. You need to be here, Leslie, in the real world.”

Leslie sniffed. He muttered something against Sebastian’s chest that he didn’t understand, but at least he didn’t fight him again. 

Eventually, Sebastian felt all tension spill from his small body, and when he leaned down to check, Leslie had fallen asleep, mouth slightly open as his head fell to the side in Sebastian’s arms. 

Sebastian was glad for it, really. Leslie was draining—dealing with him was no different than dealing with a toddler, while all the same, the topic of him just  _ being  _ here was so heavy. Sebastian desperately wanted to understand more of his situation so he could help, but it slowly dawned on him that he would not be able to do so alone. He needed someone to help him with this, but it wasn’t like he could just take Leslie back to Beacon. He had already kidnapped him.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sebastian had to rely on Ruvik. The irony of this was not lost on him. 

“Hey,” Sebastian said softly to Leslie’s inanimate face. He didn’t want to wake him up, but at the same time, if Ruvik was there, he’d hear him. “This is all thanks to you, you know. Just let the kid rest. I swear, the moment you show yourself, I’m gonna kick your ass, you hear me?”

There was no reply, but Sebastian hadn’t expected any. Sebastian carefully lifted Leslie up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom. He put him down on the bed, managed to wrestle him out of his jeans, tucked him in and killed the lights. 

No handcuffs tonight. He didn’t want to get through that again. If Ruvik tried to pull a stunt, he had to get past Sebastian anyway.

 

*

 

He poured the rest of his whiskey in a glass for class more than anything, and fell heavily down to the couch with it, patting his pockets for his cigarettes. With Leslie in the other room, there was no reason to retreat to the balcony for smoking, and Sebastian was glad for it. 

He took a deep drag and let the smoke burn and settle in his lungs for a long moment before he exhaled. 

He needed a plan, the  _ resemblance _ of one at least. 

And although he knew he wouldn’t find a solution on the bottom of a bottle, opening up a new one seemed to be the only feasible step in that moment.

 

*

 

“Sebastian? I need your help.”

Sebastian bolted awake and nearly fell off the couch with his uncoordinated flailing. In the light of the TV, he could see Leslie take a cautious step back. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sebastian said, blinking heavily. “I’m up, I’m awake. Leslie. Hey. What’s, err, what’s up?”

Leslie blinked. “It’s Ruvik,” he said, and Sebastian tensed. 

It was foolish to consider it right in this moment—but the idea that Ruvik had been up and around while Sebastian had been out cold was unsettling. He could have done anything—stolen his money, gun, whatever else he could carry and gone his merry way. 

The thought that even someone as small and fragile as Leslie could have strangled him occurred to Sebastian in disturbing clarity. Strangling only took roughly eleven pounds of pressure. Ruvik could have easily done it if he put his mind to it, if Sebastian’s booze-inflicted unconsciousness was deep enough.

Sebastian stared at Ruvik for a moment, processing the thought. “What… do you want?” he asked, blinking against the sleep haze and anxiety in his gut. Ruvik just stood there, fingers sliding over the hem of his sleeves as he stared at the floor. Sebastian fought himself out of the couch and got up, stretching until his back cracked. He groaned and rubbed his head. “Christ, what time is it?”

“About three-thirty,” Ruvik said calmly. 

“Do you never  _ sleep _ ?” 

“Sleep is a waste of time,” Ruvik said. “Especially when I only get about half a day, anyways.” 

“Sure, whatever,” Sebastian muttered. “So what’s up? If you need to go to the bathroom, I’m  _ not  _ helping you with that.” Ruvik stared at him disdainfully, but Sebastian just shrugged. “What? You’re the one who told me handling your body is hard. Here’s a tip: sit down for pissing, it’s harder to miss.”

“You’re utterly tasteless,” Ruvik stated. “No. That’s not it.”

“Well, spit it out.” Suddenly, Ruvik looked hesitant. It made Sebastian even more suspicious. He couldn’t help himself; he put his hands on his hips and cocked a brow. “What’s up; cat got your tongue?”

Ruvik made a face. “Do you care to know that cats were among the first animals I dissected? Birds would have been less suspicious, but cats are mammals, and I needed—”

“Christ, shut up! I’m sorry I said anything!”

There was a tense silence.

Sebastian rubbed a hand down his face and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Look, if you don’t have anything to say after all, how about you go back to sleep?“ he suggested tiredly.

Ruvik took a breath. “It’s… Leslie,” he said, and hesitated again. 

So did Sebastian. “Is he… okay?” he asked. And then he got angry. “What have you done to him? He was all upset because of you!” 

“Because of me?” Ruvik said. “ _ You  _ were the one who denied him!”

“ _ Denied _ ?” Sebastian parroted. He was close to jabbing Ruvik in the chest again, but caught himself in time. “What could I have done, punch him unconscious and hope  _ you _ pop out?!”

Ruvik sighed. “That’s why I need your help.”

Sebastian crossed his arms. “As much as I want to, I’m not punching you in the face.  _ Leslie’s _ face.”

Ruvik ignored him. “So far, I’ve only discovered that a certain amount of alcohol keeps him repressed. I had no control over ‘popping out’ or  _ switching _ , as I will call it henceforth, neither one way or the other. We switch when he’s unconscious, sleeping or in high states of stress, but I’m not  _ controlling _ it. Neither is he, as far as I know. Leslie just shuts down, and I take over. So far, switching back to Leslie only happened when  _ I _ slept, too.” Ruvik pressed his lips together until they became a thin white line.  “What you did,” he said then, tensely. “I need you to do it again.”

Sebastian stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

Ruvik sighed. He moved to sit down on the couch. “As I’m sure you know, I have severe pyrophobia…” He paused, eyeing Sebastian. “Fear of fire,” he elaborated.

Sebastian scoffed. “I know what pyrophobia is, smart-ass.”

“It’s crucial you understand what I’m talking about, so I’m using, ah,  _ simple words _ .”

“I know it must be a shocking thing to discover, but I’m not  _ stupid _ ,” Sebastian said, falling down on the opposing chair.

Ruvik’s look said he thought otherwise, but didn’t comment on it. “As I was saying, I have severe pyrophobia.” He clenched his small, white hands to fists in his lap. “It’s unfortunate, but it’s nothing I can control. It makes me feel—”

Sebastian waited for him to finish the sentence, but he never did. Ruvik exhaled heavily. 

“Nevermind that,” he continued finally. “Today’s experience was… disconcerting, to say the least. You managed to make me switch back to Leslie while I was  _ there _ , and I had absolutely no control over the matter. In fact, I think I’m… missing several hours worth of time.” There was something in his grey eyes Sebastian didn’t dare to put into words.

“I see,” he said, when Ruvik didn’t talk for a moment. His cigarettes and lighter were on the coffee table between them. Slowly, making sure Ruvik would be able to track his movement, he leaned forward to grab them both. Ruvik tensed visibly. 

Sebastian put a cigarette between his lips and lowered his gaze to his lighter, but he could sense Ruvik staring hard at him. He raised the lighter up, and he thumbed down the spark wheel once, twice, until it ignited. 

A flame flickered between his fingers. 

Sebastian kept it there for a moment before leaning the tip of the cigarette into it. He watched the paper and tobacco catch fire. He sucked in a breath, fueling the embers with oxygen as he did, exhaled and finally let go of the plastic pedal of the lighter.

He pretended not to notice how Ruvik seemed to crumble back into the chair with weary relaxation. 

“Thanks for the permission to smoke in my own home,” Sebastian said, with more snark than necessary. Ruvik’s stretching silence was making him think of how traumatised he had to be from the fire when even a lighter was causing him so much distress. It all had been an illusion because ultimately, Ruvik had been robbed of his body, but Sebastian remembered his entire body wrapped up in bandages, and the ugly, ragged scars under the tattered robe. Now he wore Leslie’s gentle and spotless face. The soft features made it so  _ easy _ to forget what a shattered person Ruvik actually was. Brutal and insane, yes; genius, maybe, but definitely broken.

“What’s your endgame here, then?” Sebastian asked as he leaned back in his chair. Ruvik stared at the smoke rising from the burning tip of his cigarette, following it with his eyes when Sebastian took it from his lips and rested it between his fingers. 

Ruvik licked his lips. “Exposure therapy,” he said without looking at Sebastian. His steely eyes were transfixed on the little embers of the cigarette as if nothing else in the universe existed.

“Huh,” said Sebastian. “So you’re just gonna watch me smoke?”

“For now.” When Sebastian tucked the cigarette back between his lips to shake his head with a scoff under his breath, Ruvik’s eyes flickered up to meet his gaze again. “Don’t move.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t like you moving the cigarette. Keep it between your lips from now on.”

“You have a lot of nerve, bossing me around.” But Sebastian didn’t move again. Smoking with the thing tucked between his lips was something he did a lot, anyway. 

Ruvik sat stiffly poised on the couch, not moving a muscle. He even blinked remarkably little, although Sebastian was sure the smoke was irritating his eyes and lungs. The silence between them stretched on, and Ruvik, still as if he was going to drop dead any second now, was even more unsettling than when giving a lecture.

Sebastian shifted a little. He felt stupid, but if one of them didn’t break the silence, he’d go insane, and Ruvik didn’t seem inclined to speak anytime soon. So Sebastian inhaled, exhaled the smoke through his nose, and said: 

“So… what’s with the hair?”

Ruvik blinked as his eyes focused on Sebastian’s eyes instead of the burning tip of the cigarette. “Pardon?”

“Hair.” Sebastian vaguely waved a finger at Leslie’s white hair. A portion of what had been his long bangs had been crudely cut off. Sebastian remembered it had been the first thing about finding Leslie that had burned itself into his mind. “What happened?”

Ruvik carefully brushed his fingertips over the rough zigzag line of leftover strands. He took his time to answer, but when he spoke, it came out like a flood. “It bothers me. It gets in my eyes and sticks to my forehead. It’s incredibly  _ heavy _ . It prickles. It’s warm. It’s—ugh.” He stopped himself. “I didn’t have hair for almost thirty years, so I tried to cut it.” Ruvik lifted his left hand away from his head, holding it out between them. It was shaking. “But I decided the danger of gouging my eyes was too big, so I discontinued.”

“I suppose that makes sense,“ Sebastian muttered. Then he noticed the ash on the tip of his cigarette drooping. “I gotta get rid of the ash,” he said, pointing to the ashtray. 

Ruvik flicked his gaze down, and then moved to hand the ashtray over. Sebastian, a little startled, accepted it from his hands, and took the cigarette between his hands again to tip the ash away. Ruvik only relaxed again when Sebastian had settled back into the chair. 

“It doesn’t look good,” Sebastian said. “The hair, I mean,” he added when Ruvik’s attention clearly had been interrupted.

Ruvik shrugged. “Can’t be helped,” he muttered. “It’s a trivial matter.”

Sebastian couldn’t believe it, but his mouth opened, and he said: “I could cut it. At least you would look less like you stuck your head in a grinder.”

Ruvik stared at him from those steely eyes. Then, very slowly, he said: “Yes.”

“Fine,” Sebastian muttered, jabbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and ignoring how Ruvik leaned away from the wafts of smoke that reached him across the table. “Go to the bathroom and get a towel ready. I’ll get a pair of scissors.”

“I’m—right now?” Ruvik pressed himself deeper into the couch until he was sure the cigarette was indeed stubbed out. “I didn’t give you permission to stop!”

Sebastian made a face as he stood. “I think you’ve had enough voyeurism for now, your majesty.” 

“I told you to call me by my  _ name _ .”

“Yeah, yeah. Now git,” Sebastian said on the way to the kitchen.

Ruvik unfolded himself from his perched position on the couch. He slowly followed Sebastian and stopped in the doorway. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Sebastian didn’t look up from where he was going through the drawers. “Because you look stupid.”

He didn’t turn around to give Ruvik the satisfaction, but he heard the hesitation before Ruvik finally answered. “I do not,” he said, sounding just the slightest bit defensive. “Leslie is fourteen years younger than me, it’s hardly optimal,” he added. 

“Yeah, but you’re not helping by adding a side-cut.”

“A what?” Ruvik asked, and then, when Sebastian didn’t answer: “Didn’t you complain about the time earlier?”

Sebastian scoffed. “Well now I’m awake, and I guess  _ you’re  _ not going back to sleep, and I like to have my eye on you.”

“What about Leslie, though? You would cut his hair without his permission?”

It was a good point. Making decisions about Leslie's appearance without his consent was something Sebastian would never do. But if he looked a little deeper, beyond the surface of affront, there was something more resigned. “Honestly, I doubt he’ll notice,” he muttered. 

Sebastian had found a pair of scissors in the kitchen and made a shooing motion at Ruvik, who wrinkled his forehead but turned around to the bathroom. Standing behind him, Sebastian watched how he kept one hand to the wall as he walked, and he could see him shake even under the thick clothes he wore.

“How did you survive on your own for a week?” he muttered, more to himself, but Ruvik picked up on it.

“A mixture of Leslie’s frankly admirable talent to keep himself away from harm, and me being  cognitive enough to take care of us.”

“By getting piss-drunk?” asked, following Ruvik into the bathroom. He waved his hand at the bathtub. “Sit down.”

“That was an accident,” Ruvik muttered, doing as he was told, which was a little bit surprising. But Sebastian wouldn’t argue. If this was what it took to get Ruvik to behave, he would see it through. 

“I bet it was,” he scoffed, setting the scissors down on the sink to grab a spare towel to hand to him. “Where did you sleep, what did you eat?”

Ruvik scrunched up his little nose. “I would rather not talk about it, really,” he said, draping the towel around his shoulders.

“Hm.” Sebastian looked down at Ruvik sitting on the bathtub and staring somewhere ahead. It was so weird to see him like this; before, too. Seeming so normal. Looking at him, nobody would know what he was capable of, what he had done. 

It was a sudden realization: Nobody but Sebastian knew. Not even Leslie whose face Ruvik now bore. It was like a terrible secret.

Sebastian shook himself out of it and then extended a hand to brush it over Ruvik’s hair. It was wispy and soft. Coupled with its lack of color, it was a bit like a cloud. 

He would have to cut all of it, if he wanted to make Ruvik’s self-inflicted notch disappear. He raised the scissors.

“Must’ve been one hell of a step down from what you’re used to, huh?” he asked before the silence could stretch. The first loose hairs fell down to the towel. Ruvik didn’t flinch, didn’t move at all.

“Quite,” he answered. “Although I never much cared for my father’s riches. They helped, of course, but—” He caught himself. “Why are we talking about this?” he asked then, sounding suspicious.

“It’s called smalltalk,” Sebastian grunted, not moving to catch a glimpse of Ruvik’s expression. He kept concentrating on cutting his hair. “You never been to a hairdresser before?”

Ruvik seemed to contemplate this for a while before he answered, but eventually, he sighed. “No. My mother hired a lady to do it. She came to our house.”

“Who made you wear that awful parting, she or your mother?”

This time, Ruvik moved his head inquiringly. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” It was kind of funny to think about, but Sebastian bit his tongue. “The… painting,” he said quickly to change the topic. “That was you, wasn’t it? With your family.”

“I can only guess what you mean, Seb, but yes, I believe you saw a big part of my own memories, as well.” Ruvik moved again, trying to catch a glimpse of Sebastian’s face. “You consider  _ this _ smalltalk?” he asked.

“I’m already changing my mind,” Sebastian muttered. “Hold still.”

“I do not recall you having any experience with barbering,” Ruvik muttered.

“I don’t. So hold still for chrissake, or  _ I’ll _ gouge your eye,” Sebastian said, giving the scissors a little shake in front of Ruvik’s face just to drive the point home. Ruvik didn’t even flinch, but he lowered his head a little and didn’t speak anymore.

Sebastian had ran out of topics himself, but he found working in silence wasn’t so bad after all. Ruvik just sat and breathed beneath him while he clipped away at his hair. 

The top was surprisingly easy, Sebastian thought; he could just crop it all down a little. The sides were a bit more of a challenge, and he felt weird when he carefully pushed Ruvik’s ears aside with two fingers to clip the hairs there. They were so thin they were nothing but peach fuzz and almost invisible without the right light.

Sebastian skirted the scissors around the soft nape of Ruvik’s neck. The hairs fell and stuck to his skin. He brushed his hand over Ruvik’s exposed neck to wipe them away, and felt a layer of fresh, cold sweat stick to his skin. “Christ, you’re soaking wet,” he muttered when he noticed the dampness in Ruvik’s clothes. “Are you afraid of a burning cigarette that much?” he asked without thinking. 

Ruvik kept his head bowed and didn’t answer, but Sebastian felt his shoulders tense beneath him.

“I mean,” Sebastian added quickly to save himself, “I’d have thought you’d be more afraid of your enemy being this close with a pair of scissors.” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Seb,” Ruvik said, and Sebastian already had an answer on the tip of his tongue, but Ruvik added: “And you’re not my enemy. I have no reason to oppose you. Neither do you.”

He said it in that weird voice that made Sebastian’s skin break out with gooseflesh. “I’d like to think otherwise,” he muttered, but instead of arguing, took a step back and put the scissors away. “Well, I think I’m done.”

Ruvik got up from the bathtub and turned to take a look at the mirror. Sebastian had cut his hair down to fit the poorly cut part that Ruvik had done himself, so most of the white locks were gone. His forehead was bare again, ears and neck exposed. Ruvik brushed his fingers through his hair.

“It looks…  _ modern _ ,” he said. It sounded like an accusation. 

“Happy 25th birthday,” Sebastian muttered. Of course there wouldn’t be a thank you or anything, not that he had expected one. “At least you look the part now.”

“I suppose it makes me look a little older,” Ruvik muttered, still transfixed on his reflection.  

Sebastian emptied the towel of hair over the bathtub and shook it out. “Glad you like it,” he muttered, and then wiped down his face with his hands. “Christ. What time is it now, like five? Can we please get some sleep now?”

Ruvik didn’t turn to look at him, just flicked his eyes toward him in the mirror. “Go ahead. I’d like to stay up a little and write.”

Sebastian found he was too tired to argue. 

 

*

 

Sebastian went back to sleep on the couch, the TV still running just like before. 

The kitchen was only parted from the living room by a waist-high counter. Although Sebastian clearly neither minded the light nor the sound of the TV, Ruvik didn’t want to switch on the lights. So he went into the office, stepped over all the rubble to get Sebastian’s desk lamp and plug it in by the kitchen table to write. It was important that he kept track of today’s progress. It wasn’t much, but it was important. 

Ruvik did not want Sebastian to have so much power over him. It worried him deeply. Unthinkable what a  _ real _ fire could do. He had told Sebastian he was here to stay no matter what, but truth be told, he  _ didn’t know that _ . If exposed, maybe his panic would make it possible for Leslie to override him.

He would not let that happen.

He wrote for a while until Sebastian started snoring. Ruvik frowned and tried to ignore it, but the man was loud enough to drown out Ruvik’s very thoughts. 

Ruvik sighed and put down the pen. He closed his eyes for a moment; they were burning from exhaustion. His entire body felt heavy and all he wanted was to get some sleep himself, but he  _ knew  _ that Leslie would be the one to wake up, and that would set him back with his notes. It was important that he wrote all his observations down while still fresh. Leslie’s conscious tended to bleed into his own. He would water down Ruvik’s thoughts if he wasn’t careful.

But right now he wasn’t sure if Sebastian’s snoring wasn’t worse.

Ruvik sighed again and rose from his chair, dragging himself around the counter and to the couch. “You’re loud enough to wake the dead!” he hissed, giving Sebastian’s shoulder a shake. 

The man snorted and slapped Ruvik’s hand away. “Wha’eve’,” he muttered and turned over to his side. He didn’t wake entirely and quickly settled back, snoring dulled to soft breathing.

Ruvik was satisfied and stood over Sebastian for a moment, watching him. Such a fascinating specimen, he thought. So simple, so easy to read and manipulate. But so genuine, too. To a fault, really. Ruvik knew that had he sought refuge with  _ anyone _ else, things wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. It was only Sebastian who was gullible and stupid enough to believe him.

Ruvik carefully extended a hand. He was still shaking from overexertion, so he didn’t dare do much other than carefully caress his fingertip along a loose strand of Sebastian’s hair. “You’re perfect,” he whispered to him.

 

*

 

Six o’clock came and went. Exhaustion pulled at Ruvik’s limbs and mind, begging him to sleep. His writing had become illegible, his eyes burned and he couldn’t read anymore, and every few moments his chin sunk to his chest and he had to force himself into alertness that just as quickly dwindled again.

It was no use. His body needed sleep. He hated it, hated knowing it would be hours, maybe even  _ a day _ , before he would be back. But he knew what lack of REM sleep did to a brain. And his was special, too. He couldn’t take any risks. 

He yawned and rubbed a hand through the short hair in his neck. It prickled against his sensitive fingertips. Since Sebastian had cut it, Ruvik couldn’t help himself; again and again he would touch his neck, brush his fingers through the short hairs there. 

He found he enjoyed the sensation.

It was another novelty added to a seemingly endless surplus of new experiences. 

Having Sebastian tend to his hair hadn’t been unwanted, either. After the exaggerated stress of exposing himself  to his phobia, having Sebastian’s warm, steady hands work with his hair had been… distracting. And that had been…  _ pleasant _ .

Ruvik switched off the light and rubbed his face. He didn’t remember having a corporeal form was so exhausting.

_ “Ruben.” _

Ruvik bolted away. The chair creaked and toppled over. In the living room, he heard Sebastian grunt and roll over. Ruvik heard nothing but his blood rushing through his head and his ragged breathing burning in his lungs. 

“Leslie,” he said under his breath. “Cease this.”

There was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. Because he was alone, and there was nobody here to talk to him.

He staggered around the corner into the living room. Sebastian was still sound asleep, destroying all thoughts that he was playing an ill-mannered prank on him.

“Sebastian?” Ruvik muttered anyway. “Did you just say my name?” But Sebastian didn’t answer. 

Ruvik rubbed his face and eyes. He was sleep-deprived, he was hearing things. A young body like Leslie’s should still be fine with some extended time awake, but Leslie was also mentally ill. Maybe Ruvik had overestimated his capabilities. 

He didn’t move for a moment, letting Sebastian’s breathing and the flickering light of the TV calm him. Only then did he turn around, prepared to retreat and get some rest. 

His fingertips barely brushed the doorknob of the bedroom—

_ “̵R̶̵u̶b̷e̶n.” _

Ruvik jumped again and almost lost his footing. 

He clung to the door frame and looked around frantically. Still nothing. Ruvik shook so much he could barely straighten himself up, but he hurried back down the hallway, leaning against the wall. 

He knew why he didn’t see anyone; the voice was coming from  _ outside _ . 

He rounded the corner to the living room and carried himself to the front door. He had to stand on his toes to reach the spy, and just when he leaned forward, someone knocked on the door.

“Sebastian?” a voice rang out. 

Ruvik felt his heart hammer up to the back of his throat. There was a sour taste in his mouth. “Who’s there?” he whispered. 

“Leslie?” the voice asked.

Ruvik didn’t answer; there wasn’t really anything to answer. He hesitated for a moment, then he unlocked the door and slowly pulled it open. The hallway was dark and empty. Ruvik blinked once, twice; trying to hear anything over his hammering heartbeat. 

He was alone. 

Ruvik switched on the light and looked around the empty hallway. He heard steps retreat down the stairs, and when he was still standing in the doorway, he knew he had exposed himself. He flinched back and shut the door, sliding the chain in place and held his breath, straining his ears to pick up any traitorous sounds outside, but nothing.

They had to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy i'm back! sorry it took a while, Dishonored:DotO is probably to blame for the delay but HERE'S YOUR NEW CHAPTER.


	5. Quarantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stares tango gameworksstraight in the eyes as I slowly add the "canon divergent" tag*

The neon lights of the Seven Eleven were brightly mirrored on the wet parking lot. Sebastian power-walked through the rain, hopping over the puddles on the floor on the way back to the car.

He awkwardly balanced two cups of coffee in one hand as he opened the door and heavily fell down on the driver’s seat. 

On the other side, Ruvik moved his head from where he had been surveilling the side mirror. He gave Sebastian’s getup—soaked trench coat, shirt wrinkled and tie crooked—a quick once-over. 

“You can still surprise me, Detective” he said. “No doughnuts?”

If Sebastian detected some animosity, he didn’t let it on. “They were out,” he said simply as he handed one cup over. “Tell me again why we’re here?” 

Ruvik took it, pulling his sleeves over his hands to hold the steaming hot coffee carefully. He was trembling. Sebastian wasn’t about to say anything, but ever since Ruvik had shook him awake and insisted they leave the flat  _ now _ , he looked worse every second.

“We’ve been found out,” Ruvik said. His eyes were bloodshot, dark in the hollow of his skull. He had the hood of his sweater pulled up, and even with Leslie’s gentle face, he looked more and more like Sebastian remembered him; the  _ real  _ him.

“And that means…?” Sebastian prompted, trying to take a sip of his coffee but burning his tongue in the process. Ruvik was keeping an eye on their surroundings, watching the mirrors and turning around every so often. He seemed downright paranoid, and although Sebastian didn’t want to be affected, he felt like a sense of dread was starting to creep up his neck, too.

“I honestly can’t believe you’re that ignorant,“ Ruvik said, holding up his cup without drinking, only inhaling the steam. “Did you really not notice anything?”

“Uhm,  _ no _ , I was asleep?” 

“Not tonight,” Ruvik said and waved his hand dismissively. “In STEM.”

Sebastian frowned. He hated when Ruvik brought it up. He didn’t feel comfortable with being confronted with what had actually happened between them in the past. It was the elephant in the room, and the car was too small for an elephant. “You’ll have to be more specific. There was  _ a lot _ going on in STEM,” he muttered.

Ruvik was staring hard at the side mirror. “ _ Mobius _ , Seb, I’m talking about Mobius.”

Sebastian hesitated because that name seemed like it  _ should  _ feel familiar, but he couldn’t place a finger on it. He gently blew on his coffee and tried another sip.

“Your elongated silence tells me you really do not know,” Ruvik said, finally snapping his attention back to Sebastian. 

“Is that a problem?” Sebastian asked, not caring to give Ruvik the satisfaction of admitting it.

“I can fill you in just as well.” Ruvik shrugged and then turned away to check the side mirror again. Sebastian waited for a moment, and was about to speak again, when Ruvik finally gathered himself up. “Mobius,” he continued slowly, “helped build STEM.”

Sebastian scoffed. “What,  _ you _ needed help?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No, the invention is mine of course. I’m talking about funds, research, and most importantly, a place. They own Beacon.”

“They— _ what _ ?! But Jimenez—”

“Jimenez worked for Mobius, Seb. Unfortunately, I was too caught up in my work to realize what they planned. I had of course always worked around them—STEM would only work with me at its core, and I didn’t care much for what they wanted to achieve, but to think they would—” He stared at his hands holding the cup. “I was careless,” he said then. “The closer I got to completing my life’s work, the less I paid attention to my surroundings.” 

“Were they the ones who… How does one even go about taking a live brain out of a body?!”

“Believe me, once one passes cumbersome hindrances like ethics, there are ways to do almost anything.” Ruvik smiled at him before pressing himself deeper into his seat. “It hardly matters. They thought they had won, but evidently, they haven’t.”

“So this is what all that was about—they put you into STEM, and you needed Leslie to get out.”

“Congratulations, Detective, finally you put all the pieces together.”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Sebastian groused. He exhaled. “So, what—now they’re after you?”

“Obviously. I’m a threat to their very existence, just by knowing about them.” Ruvik put the cup to his lips but seemed to think better of it and lowered it back down without drinking. “It’s going to be much easier now that you’re here,” he muttered. “Surviving on my own on the streets with my obvious, ah,  _ disability _ was far from optimal.”

Sebastian grunted noncommittally. “What makes you think I’d help you?”

Ruvik didn’t even bother to look at him. “What do you think Mobius will do to Leslie, should they get their hands on him?”

Sebastian realized he had walked right into that one. He didn’t think he cared to know. Without saying anything regarding the matter, he asked, “So what now?” 

“I want to be sure we weren’t followed. We need to find a place where we’re safe. I wanted to go back to the mansion, but—”

“The Victoriano mansion?!” 

Ruvik had the audacity to roll his eyes. “No, Luigi’s. Of  _ course _ the Victoriano mansion.”

“Are you being sarcastic at me?” 

“Your idiolect is likely to bleed into mine. So while this will do wonders for  _ your _ vocabulary, I’ll probably degrade every second I breathe the same air as you. Now will you listen?”

“Whatever.” Sebastian tried his coffee again. At least it didn't burn him this time. Then he looked up again. “Wait, are you calling me an idiot?” he asked sharply.  


“I’m not even going to grace that with a response.” “I was about to go back, but if they surveilled your flat, it’s likely there is no possibility we’ll get to my lab unharmed.” 

“The mansion burned down.”

“We would get through these conversations  _ much _ quicker if you stopped yourself from always stating the obvious. Yes, the mansion burned down, but that doesn’t mean everything is gone. Despite my carelessness, I never trusted Mobius.“

Sebastian scoffed. “Clever. Paranoid, but clever.”

Ruvik smiled. “Please. You say it as if you hadn’t done the same thing.”

The mere implication was insultig. Sebastian bristled. “Used mental patients as experiments? As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have!” 

“Maybe. But you’re just as paranoid as I am.” Ruvik still smiled at him. “Remember, Seb. We’re compatible. Us two are so much  _ more  _ alike than you think.”

Sebastian ignored it, and the way Ruvik said it. “So what, we need a place to lay low?”

“Preferably. I would rather not go on a road trip.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.” Sebastian keyed the ignition. “I think there’s a motel off 55th, it’s as good a start as anything I guess.”

Ruvik’s face twisted into a grimace. “Oh, splendid,” he muttered, casting his eyes down to his neglected and probably-now-lukewarm coffee. He pursed his plump lips around the little hole in the plastic lid. He sipped carefully. Sebastian looked away.

“I’m sure you’ll love it,” he said, putting the car into gear.

“Sarcasm, Seb,” Ruvik said cooly and sunk into the seat comfortably. “Fine, drive. But take a detour, just to make sure.”

Sebastian would have without being told to ( _ We’re alike _ , Ruvik’s voice echoed in his head) but he couldn’t help but feel like he was playing chauffeur for a spoiled rich kid.

 

*

It was as bad and dingy as Ruvik had feared. But after spending a week on the streets, despite not giving Sebastian the satisfaction of admitting it, he thought it was acceptable. 

The sun had risen; if one could call it that; it hung low and fat and weak behind a thin layer of clouds, making the light gray and unpleasant. As soon as the shops had opened, Sebastian had stopped by a drugstore to buy a few toiletries and supplies, and even though he thought he had hidden it well, Ruvik noticed the bottle of whiskey that had miraculous appeared behind the front seat of the car by the time they continued their drive. 

Stepping to one of the two beds, Ruvik emptied his hoodie on the duvet. Out from underneath fell several things, collecting in a pile as Sebastian halted in inspecting the room to stare at Ruvik with bemusement.

“What the fuck?” he said finally. “You  _ stole _ that? Right under my nose?!”

“Perfectly observed, albeit a bit late. I suppose it’s good you’re homicide, and not a mall cop,” Ruvik said, sitting down to inspect several boxes of what Sebastian guessed was drugs and medicine of some sort.

Sebastian groused. “Remind me again why I’m not punching you in the face?”

“You’re welcome to try.” Ruvik didn’t even look up. “I look forward to you explaining to Leslie why he has a black eye.”

Sebastian took a deep breath. Was it a good or a bad thing that he felt like he was getting used to the insults, the threats? “What I’m trying to say, is,” he said, exaggeratedly calm, “you could have  _ asked _ !” To drive his point home, Sebastian pointed accusingly at the two toothbrushes he bought for them. 

Ruvik looked up to smile at him sweetly. “I’ll remember that next time, Seb.” And just like that, he went back to unpacking and sorting through his pile of stolen goods. 

Sebastian wasn’t a religious man but he prayed for patience in these trying times nonetheless, and went to further inspect their little motel room. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but besides a moldy corner in the bathroom shower, he didn’t find anything of notice. No bugs, no suspicious cars or men in the parking lot. Even after double-checking everything, he had to admit they were probably safe.

He looked over to Ruvik. He was still sitting on his bed, his equipment neatly laid out in front of him on the cover. He had his legs drawn in, using his thigh as a surface for his little journal to write in. Sebastian could see the strain of it on his face, and the way he gripped the pen in his left hand, looking so concentrated on just controlling the muscles of this new, alien body to such a miniscule detail. 

He watched for a moment. Ruvik didn’t seem to notice.

Sebastian sighed. “You should get some sleep,” he said, and then quickly added, “You look like a fucking zombie.  _ Again _ .”

“I would rather not risk vanishing and letting Leslie out in a precarious situation like this.” Ruvik finished writing and closed the journal, putting it away into the back pocket of his jeans. He got up from the bed as if to make a point, taking one of his little boxes from his loot and instead settled on one of the chairs in the small kitchenette. 

He opened the little paper box and got out what Sebastian hoped were just caffeine pills and swallowed them with the last sip of his coffee. He’d held on to that little cup for like an hour or so. It must’ve been completely cold. Sebastian shuddered just thinking about drinking that, but Ruvik didn’t seem to mind.

Sebastian sighed. “Fine. As long as you don’t pass out on me should things actually go down.”

“What do you expect, a shootout? This isn’t a video game.”

Sebastian grimaced. “So what’s the plan?”

“Ultimately… destroy Mobius’ STEM terminal.”

“I— _ they have a STEM terminal _ ?!”

“Remember how you do not need to repeat everything I just told you? It still applies.”

“When were you planning on telling me?!”

“Considering you didn’t even know of Mobius just a few hours ago, it seems like this is a good moment.”

“Holy shit.” Sebastian grabbed his head and had to sit down on the bed. There was  _ still _ a STEM terminal, and it was in the hands of some shady organization that wanted to—what, exactly, did they want to do with Leslie? To Ruvik?

Well, he could guess the latter. Remove him from Leslie somehow, then kill him? Or copy all that was left of him to a computer this time, maybe, and press all genius out of him like he was an orange in a juicer.

“This is a lot to take in,” Sebastian muttered. He wiped his forehead. He desperately needed a drink. 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Ruvik said smoothly. “Compared to what you lived through in STEM, this is nothing.”

Sebastian hated the way he said it, and that he was probably right. What was a shady organization compared to the unspeakable things he had seen in Ruvik’s nightmare theme park? These were still real people. He knew how to deal with people.

If all else failed, a bullet would at least settle things.

He looked at Ruvik again. How he sat there— _ yes _ , with another man’s face, but sitting there nonetheless, even though Sebastian  _ remembered  _ how his brain had given way under the heel of his shoe, the  _ sound _ it had made when it did. 

He hoped Ruvik was just an exception to the rule. 

“If you’re not gonna sleep, I’m gonna get some breakfast,” he said finally. “I’m starving.”

“Go ahead. It’s important you keep your strength.” The way Ruvik said it, it sounded like it didn’t apply to him. Was he not hungry? Sebastian didn’t remember seeing him eat since Leslie had had dinner yesterday. And from the looks of it, Ruvik hadn’t slept all night. He  _ had _ to be hungry. 

Maybe he was too prideful to ask? It didn’t seem unlikely that Ruvik hated to submit to his bodily needs; then again, the damn brat certainly wasn’t shy about bossing Sebastian around. Either way, he should eat, otherwise—

Startled, Sebastian realized that he was trying to empathize with him. With Ruben Victoriano. Who was not only an evil genius, but also a serial killer, and stole a young man’s face for himself. 

The shock of it bolted Sebastian upright. 

Ruvik looked over with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian said quickly. And then, for good measure, he added, “Go fuck yourself.”

He left then, under the premise to check the little supermarket across the street for something edible. As soon as he had left the room, not paying any mind to Ruvik reminding him to be cautious, he got back in the car, and as soon as he was in the safe confinement of it, let out a sigh. After sitting alone for a moment, he looked back to their shared room. The curtains were drawn, and there was no way of knowing whether Ruvik wasn’t staring at him him through them.

Sebastian picked cigarettes and lighter from his pockets and then reached under the seat for the bottle of whiskey. With smoke burning his lungs and alcohol burning his throat, he felt considerably more composed and adjusted. 

Stockholm Syndrome, wasn’t that what they called it? 

“Fucking weasel,” Sebastian muttered, leaning his head back and letting the effect of the drugs lull him for a moment. “What’s next, liking him?” 

After a while, he left the car and headed across the street to check out the supermarket. He got a few sandwiches and instant coffee and headed back to their apartment room. 

Ruvik let him in. Sebastian hated that he had even let himself hope it might have been Leslie. 

“Do you want bacon or turkey?” He lifted the bag he was carrying for emphasis. “I don’t care if you starve, but Leslie needs it.”

“Considering the amount of food you have stuffed into him, I’m not too worried about starving just yet—” As if to prove him wrong, Ruvik’s stomach made a deep, gurgling noise. Ruvik’s face remained carefully stoic. “Nevertheless, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sebastian muttered, already grabbing the bacon sandwich out of the bag and opening the wrapper without waiting for Ruvik to announce his preference. He fell down by the small kitchen table and started stuffing his face, realizing again that he had went hungry for far too long.

By the time Sebastian had finished gorging down breakfast, Ruvik was barely through half of it. He ate like a bird, taking little bites and chewing them for  _ way _ too long. At least that’s what Sebastian thought; then again  _ he  _ had on several occasions been accused he was actually dislocating his jaw to eat like a snake by people who had to witness the act.

Sebastian wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. The silence was droning, and watching Ruvik eat was creepy. 

“So,” he said desperately. “You’re doing all of—what you’re doing... for revenge, right?” 

“Oh, not initially,” Ruvik said calmly. “After Jimenez and Mobius interfered, yes. They killed me and stole my work. It seems justified.” 

Sebastian didn’t think plagiarism justified murder, but he wasn't about to argue anymore. Ruvik obviously thought otherwise. So he let it slide. “And before that?” 

Ruvik stopped nibbling his sandwich, but he didn’t move otherwise. There was a long, tense pause, and Sebastian was already sorry he had asked and was about to brush it off, but then Ruvik looked up. 

“You know why,” he simply said. 

Sebastian half shrugged, half nodded. “Laura," he said. 

“Yes.” Ruvik looked down to his half-eaten sandwich as if he’d lost his appetite. To drive the point home, he pushed it away a few centimeters. “Then why would you ask?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie. Ruvik’s eyebrows knitted, obviously not pleased with the answer. 

Running his mouth, Sebastian added, “Maybe because I’ve never actually heard you talk about all of this. About her.”

“Do you care?” Ruvik asked stiffly.

“Maybe you telling me would  _ make  _ me care.” It wasn’t the smartest thing to say, honestly, but it was the first snarky comeback that came to mind. Trying to save himself and the situation, Sebastian cleared his throat. “You must have loved her a lot.” 

“I did.” Ruvik moved, finally. His posture relaxed a little, and he folded his hands on the table in a gesture that seemed unbecoming of the young face he now wore.  “Mother was weak, and Father was an old fool. She was the light of my life.”

Sebastian felt his neck hair rise up with a shudder he barely managed to suppress. He knew what he was seeing: Sincerity. Ruvik talked about his elder sister like any little brother would. It tied Sebastian’s brain into a knot. It was probably his detective sense that kicked in and helped him through the conversation.

“I get why you would be devastated,” he said. “Losing your sister like that. The fire though, that was an accident, right? Nobody meant to hurt you.”

Ruvik looked up from his folded hands, and if there had been the idea of vulnerability in his eyes before, it was gone now. “Does it justify what they did?” he asked, way too calm for Sebastian to think that he really was.

He quickly raised his hands defensively. “No.”

“Then you know why I couldn’t just let it stand,” Ruvik said, as if explaining it made it any less awful. “After that, Father was embarrassed to have a cripple for a son. He locked me away. He had it coming.” Ruvik scoffed. “An eye for an eye.”

Sebastian picked up on the implication. “Your father was a man of faith, wasn’t he? I remember you talking about him. Was he not—didn’t he want a son?”

Ruvik looked at him plainly. “My father did not love any of what I did. Including existing.” 

Sebastian couldn’t help the twang of pain. He shouldn’t feel bad for Ruvik, he knew this, but the topic hit too close to home. “A father is supposed to love his child,” he said. “Even if you’re a shit dad, that’s the least you can do.”

Ruvik smiled thinly at that. Sebastian thought to steer the conversation away from topics that would aggravate him further. 

“So what about your mom? She never did anything to you. Why kill her too?”

Ruvik sighed, like it was such a hassle explaining his musings to someone as common as Sebastian. “Convenience,” he said simply. Sebastian must have looked as offended as he felt, because Ruvik chuckled. “Easier to kill both than explaining everything to her. Besides, Mother went hysterical losing both her children. I deemed her past treatment. She was long gone. And though she cared more for her children than Father, she also did nothing to save us. She was an accomplice either way.”

Again, Sebastian thought better than to argue. “Sounds like the only person you care about is your sister.”

“Precisely.” Ruvik shifted. “And you, to a degree.” 

“I— _ what _ ?” 

Ruvik dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t feel the same for you that I do for my sister.”

Sebastian stared at Ruvik in panicked bewilderment. What the hell was he saying? Sebastian heard himself speak before he could stop the words tumbling from his mouth. “Jimenez talked about—you two. He, he said—”

To his surprise, Ruvik interrupted his floundering with a hard stare and a scoff. “You would do well not to believe a single word that he’s ever said.” He sounded genuinely angry, and Sebastian, dimly, shut up. “My love for Laura is pure. I would never taint her with something so mundane.” He glared at Sebastian, and Sebastian looked anywhere but at him for a long, arduous moment. Finally, Ruvik’s posture relaxed a little, and he tugged his sandwich back. 

“Besides,” he said conversationally, licking his index finger to pick up crumbs from the wrapping paper. “I am not interested in females.” 

“Of fucking course not,” Sebastian muttered under his breath. He dragged a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. He felt so damn tired. 

“What I  _ mean _ , Seb, is, I am not attracted to women.”

Sebastian lifted his hand away to look at Ruvik, who was back to nibbling his sandwich. 

If there was anything clever to say, it didn’t come to Sebastian. He just stared, long enough for Ruvik to chew and swallow and  _ continue _ talking. 

“I worried for a while about the perversion of my own mind,” he said, as if Sebastian had fucking asked. “But in the end, I concluded it doesn’t matter.”

“Please stop talking,” Sebastian said. “I’m not prepared to have this conversation, not  _ now _ , not with  _ you _ , and  _ not _ sober.”

Ruvik seemed entirely unfazed. “Again you prove to be terribly closed-minded. I’m a bit shocked, Seb. Homosexuality occurs in about 1,500 species, and that’s an estimate only. To think it’s abnormal or  _ wrong  _ is religious misthinking. There is no scientific reason to shun any sort of sexuality. But like so often, humanity  _ exceeds _ in ostracizing itself.”

“This is by far the weirdest fucking coming out I’ve ever heard of,” Sebastian muttered. “But you know what, good for you. I’m just glad at least I won’t have to worry about the girls, not in  _ that  _ regard anyway.”

“Oh, I find women quite fascinating, scientifically speaking. Humans in general, actually. Evolutionary, a lot went wrong with our race, as superior as we’re made to believe that we are.” Ruvik smiled at him with that sweet smile that Sebastian could tell by now was meant to rile him up.

And it was fucking  _ working _ .

“Yeah I’m gonna go get that drink now,” Sebastian said, rising up to leave the apartment to get the bottle of whiskey from the car. Fuck trying to hide it, he was not gonna be able to deal with Ruvik in close quarters much longer without being at least moderately buzzed. 

Ruvik sat where he had left him, and  _ still  _ hadn’t finished his sandwich. He ate so slowly that Sebastian had to deny himself the very real urge to force-feed him, just to make it end.

For a little less proximity, Sebastian sat down heavily on his designated bed, uncapping his bottle and taking a swig. He was way past caring, he really was. 

“What about you?” Ruvik asked out of nowhere.

Why couldn’t he just eat in silence? Sebastian didn’t even look over. “What about me?” he bristled. 

“I know everything about you, Seb.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I know about James Sinclair.”

Sebastian snorted his whiskey through his nose and choked, coughing. It burned like hell, but was nothing compared to the dread he felt upon hearing Ruvik say  _ those exact words _ . 

“That was in High School!” he sputtered. He was overcome with a wave of memories—hiding behind the giant tree at the school yard together, feeling a hand grab his own only in the reassuring darkness of the cinema. Saying he liked girls, but not meaning it, not like the others. 

Ruvik watched him like an eagle. “And? How is time correlating to this?”

It didn’t and Sebastian knew it. He had no comeback. “How about you stop pestering me and eat your goddamn food, you inconsiderate prick!”

Ruvik smiled. “You consider yourself so above me,” he said. “And yet you try to keep so much subdued. I never have.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Sebastian groaned, rubbing his face. “I had a phase. It passed.”

And then he froze in place as realization dawned. “Are you,” he breathed through his hands, “coming on to me?” 

Ruvik just smiled at him while Sebastian, in what had to be only a nanosecond, remembered all the weird innuendo, the commentary. He had assumed it was just Ruvik being weird, and well,  _ Ruvik _ , but suddenly he couldn’t stand being in the same room. 

He fled. He got into the car and locked the doors and turned on the radio. He thought he could just as well stay here, at least until Ruvik was gone, and maybe just forever.

 

*

 

The good thing was that Ruvik didn’t seem to be compelled to follow. The bad thing was that Sebastian had effectively locked himself out of the small comfort of their shared room.

But no matter. He could live in the car. It was better than sharing a space with Ruvik a second longer. Hell maybe he should just ditch him and go back home. 

Sebastian grit his teeth and looked over to the still windows. A few hours had passed and their room might as well not have been inhabited at all. He wondered if Ruvik was even still in there. He could have slipped out through the bathroom window, if he wanted. Not that Sebastian could come up with a reason as to why, but who knew?

Maybe he wasn’t even Ruvik anymore.

The prospect of abandoning Leslie locked him in place like always. “Goddamn that brat,” Sebastian muttered, not knowing whom of the two he meant. Maybe both.

As if he had heard him, the curtain moved. Sebastian jumped when Ruvik stared at him through the slit and then gestured him wildly inside.

Alarmed, Sebastian opened his holster and clambered out of the car.

“What’s wrong?” he said when Ruvik let him in. He took a long hard look around, but nothing seemed changed. “Did something happen?”

“Hit me,” Ruvik said.

“I would absolutely love that,” Sebastian blurted out, then checked himself. “What?!”

“I’m falling asleep,” Ruvik said. Sebastian stared at him for a moment. It was true. Ruvik was grabbing on to the wall for support, eyelids heavy and drooping. “I can’t risk switching,” he added urgently, if one could call it that: he spoke slowly and slurredly. “Now would you  _ please  _ hit me?”

“God,” Sebastian muttered. Then he slapped Ruvik square across the face. “Better?” he asked, watching as Ruvik stumbled back comically and needed a moment to regain his balance.

“Oh,” he said. “Ouch.” He raised his hands to his cheek, carefully fondling it. A lovely rush of blood blushed his face now. He almost looked alive, were it not for the prominent sunken eyes. “Ah,” he muttered, still caressing his cheek. “Adrenaline. Good. It will do for a while.”

“God,” Sebastian said again, looking around for the bottle of whiskey because  _ no _ .

He found it and made no secret of staring disdainfully at Ruvik as he took it and uncapped it. “We need a plan,” he said, taking a swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ”And you’ll have to answer more of my questions, and not just go,  _ oh you’re so ignorant, Sebastian _ .” Additionally to marking air quotes on both sides of his head, he pitched his voice to match Ruvik’s annoying tone.

“Sure,” Ruvik said.

Sebastian had anticipated a bigger fuss, especially about his choice of expression, and frowned at him, expecting him to add any sort of berating. Ruvik stared right past him, blinking so slowly that he might as well have been been doing it with one eye at a time. 

Sebastian watched for a moment. Ruvik’s chin slowly sunk to his chest before he caught himself, blinking heavily against the sleep. Apparently, the short kick of adrenaline hadn’t helped quite as good as he had hoped.

Ruvik was still no further away than an arm’s length. It was too good an opportunity to pass up on. Sebastian reached out and slapped him again. 

Ruvik let out a startled little gasp, stumbling back to land flat on his ass on the bed.

“You need to fucking sleep,” Sebastian said, shaking out his hand. He didn’t want to hurt Leslie, no; but honestly, hitting Ruvik felt too damn good not to let the bastard pay at least a little for all he had done. “You’re useless like this.”

Ruvik managed to glare, momentarily awake and aware. “This is Leslie’s fault,” he hissed. “This would be so much easier without him.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Oh, I agree. Now will you sleep already?” 

Ruvik sneered. “Fine,” he said, to Sebastian’s surprise. That was why when Ruvik snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hand, he didn’t react in time.

“Hey,” he said, but before he could take it back from Ruvik, he had taken a long swig.

Ruvik coughed and sputtered, handing the bottle back to Sebastian when he gestured for it. “Ever heard of askin’?” Sebastian groused, capping the bottle. He reminded himself that he needed to keep the alcohol away from Ruvik, and  _ definitely _ Leslie. 

“As if you would comply even if I did,” Ruvik said, wiping his mouth. “It helps me sleep, that’s all.” 

Sebastian’s confusion must have been apparent on his face because Ruvik demeaned himself to roll his eyes. “I get nightmares,” he elaborated. “Ask me again when I wake up.”

Sebastian wasn’t prepared for this kind of information; not from a ruthless serial killer. What kind of nightmares would Ruvik even  _ have _ ; after all,  _ he  _ was the one who did terrible things to people, not the other way round. 

_ Ruben! _ Laura’s voice called through Ruvik’s memories in his head, afraid for her life, but even more so for the one of her darling baby brother. 

_ You did this to us! _ a much older Ruben shouted, cradling a body against himself until they both went up in flames. Sebastian stared in horror, and even through the wall of fire he could see that the young girl in Ruben’s arms wasn’t Laura. It was Lily.

_ Dad! _ she cried.

But Sebastian couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t save her.

He stood frozen in place, staring at Ruvik who had wrapped himself into a blanket burrito and passed out the second his head hit the pillow.

 

*

 

All things considered, being Leslie Withers was relatively simple. 

Leslie had an understanding of himself, who he was in this world. That he wasn’t functioning right, that it was due to something bad happening to him, to his parents. 

He was used to a great amount of things happening and being done to him that he could never begin to comprehend. It made existing hard. He knew that what he wanted wasn’t necessarily what was good for him, but then again, he knew that what had happened in Beacon was also not good. And he wasn’t capable of drawing the line between these things. All he could do is try to trust those few people in his life who were responsible for him.

And even this had proven to be more difficult than he had ever imagined. There had been his parents, who he had loved dearly. Then there was Dr Jimenez—the first Dr Jimenez, before the other. Until this day, Leslie wasn’t sure why he had been transferred from a small rural clinic to the big one in Krimson City, but now people weren’t explaining things to him anymore, weren’t carefully leading him through his day to day life that he struggled to comprehend. 

He trusted Sebastian—more than any other. It was nothing he could match words to, because he was poor at wording. But it was a feeling that was deeply rooted in his chest. He could trust Sebastian.

He trusted Sebastian.

 

*

 

There was something disconcerting in waking up in a different place than where you had fallen asleep.

It happened frequently to Leslie, even more so in the past...—how long had it been since he had no longer been in a hospital? How long had it been since things had gotten just a little bit harder, a little less explainable, even for him?

The bed wasn’t Sebastian’s anymore. He could tell by the smell. The sheets looked different, too. Leslie carefully sat up. His head felt different—and when he rose his hands to feel, his hair had changed. Gone were his wispy locks. The strands were much shorter now, and bounced back when Leslie brushed his fingers over them.

“Sebastian?” he whispered, voice shaking.

“Are we finally wake?” Sebastian answered from somewhere. Leslie moved his head to track his voice, and found him sitting at a small table in a kitchenette that he also did not recognize. 

Sebastian sounded gruff, and Leslie did not understand the tone. The change scared him. Unsure of what to do, Leslie extended a hand, fearful. Sebastian reacted quickly and got up, took his hand and sat down on the bed with him, caressing a warm hand over his head. Sebastian’s palm was rough, but the contact was nice, and Leslie leaned into the touch, holding on to Sebastian’s other hand with both of his own.

“You’ve been asleep for a long time,” Sebastian said. He sounded different now. Leslie didn’t know if he had, but if Sebastian said it it had to be true. So he just nodded. He thought back to a story he had once heard, of someone falling asleep for a long time without waking. He wondered if he was like that. 

A nurse had read that to him, he thought. He couldn’t recall when or where, but she had been nice to him. He remembered nothing but her hair that he had admired, but he couldn’t say why. She also fed him and bathed him. He didn’t know her name, he only knew her hair now, and that she had told him stories. Like this one. He wasn’t sure if it was a true story or not, if people could sleep for this long. But maybe he had? His hair had changed, his location. But Sebastian was still here. Sebastian must have looked out for him all the while. 

It was a comfort, thinking that even when he was asleep, there was someone there to look out for him. Leslie didn’t usually feel safe. But Sebastian made him feel safe. 

He realized Sebastian was still talking, but Leslie found it hard to follow his words. He looked around, curious now that Sebastian sat beside him and provided comfort in the new environment. 

“We had to move,” Sebastian said, and the words registereds in Leslie’s head. “But we’re safe here… for now. You’ll be alright, Leslie.”

“Alright,” Leslie said, nodding to himself. Sebastian’s rubbed his back and gave his hands a little squeeze. It felt good.

Out of nowhere, there was a noise. 

Leslie startled, and he felt Sebastian next to him go very still. He looked at him and saw him staring at the door. Belatedly, Leslie could identify the noise as a knock.

Sebastian took Leslie and dragged him off the bed. “Get down,” he whispered, gently pushing his head down below the bed. Leslie, too confused to argue, did as he was told. Sebastian moved away. Leslie stared at the dingy carpet, making out stains that were sticky when he reached out to touch them.

Somewhere, Sebastian was talking. Leslie looked at dust bunnies under the bed, blowing softly in their direction and smiling when they danced away.

Through beneath the bed, Leslie could see Sebastian’s feet by the door. It opened. There was another pair of feet outside. There were voices now, talking agitatedly. Leslie didn’t like the tone, and put his hands over his ears to block them out as good as he could. He watched the dust twirl in the light that came through the opened door. 

Leslie blinked. It took him a moment to realize Sebastian was now standing behind him again. He helped him up, although Leslie wanted to play with the dust bunnies some more. 

“Leslie,” someone said. “You’re alright!” It wasn’t Sebastian, who was looking at him queerly. Leslie had to turn his head to track the voice.

“More or less,” Sebastian said. “Sit down. We have  _ a lot _ to talk about.”

By the door stood a person. Recognition bubbled up inside of Leslie like air getting freed under water and racing up to reach the surface. Leslie squealed.

Juli Kidman smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for everyone who made it this far, thank you for your patience! i've run out of buffer which is why chapters will be slow(er) to update from here on out, but I hope you'll enjoy them nonetheless! i would apologize for the constant breaking of the fourth wall but i'm feelin' sassy.
> 
> the good thing is that in the meantime i've had time (and eventually, money) to play EW2! ... and will now ruefully ignore it ever happened lmao. out of respect for everyone though, just a general heads-up, please refrain from posting spoilers in the comments? thank you! ♥


	6. Relapse

Initially, Sebastian had hated that he should be overseeing their new transfer. He had a lot of shit going on, and his patience and sociability had suffered greatly. Sometimes he wondered how Joseph dealt with him at all, because some days, Sebastian couldn’t even deal with himself. He began drinking. He became desperate for any sort of explanation that would ease the loss he had suffered, and even started to believe that there really  _ had _ been a conspiracy. It was around this time that Joseph brought in Internal Affairs, and Sebastian got a good talking-to by the brass. It sobered him up—not literally, but it helped set him back in his tracks and get his shit straight.

So when the captain handed him the rookie’s file and said she was his fuckin’ responsibility, Sebastian decided it was nobody’s but his own fault that things ended up the way that they did. When Juli Kidman first walked into his office, he smiled at her, apologized for his colleagues’ crude humor, and went to get her a coffee.

He stood by his decision to keep her close and take her with him and Joseph on scenes during the entire time she worked under him. But he came to question that during the hellhole that was Beacon—and in the end, he had to admit he had probably been fooled by her all along. He hadn’t understood a thing then (and he still didn’t) but  _ she  _ apparently did, and quite a lot, too. After Beacon, everything was a damn mess, and nobody could tell him what happened to her, and all his tries to track her down had failed.

Now she was standing in the door, apparently completely unfazed that he had his magnum pointed at her head. 

He pulled the hammer back. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you  _ right now _ ,” he asked.

Kidman’s face was entirely unreadable to him. “Because you want answers,” she said, staring him straight in the eyes. 

He snorted. She was right, of course—but still. “Oh and you  _ have _ answers, huh.”

“More than you do.” She sighed. “Put away the gun, Sebastian. You can’t just shoot me, and you know that. I came to talk, that is all.”

Sebastian scoffed, but he relented. He lowered the gun and secured it, but kept it in hand nevertheless.

Kidman still didn’t seem to be overly bothered. She just nodded at Leslie. “What is  _ he  _ doing here?” 

“No,  _ I _ ask the questions,” Sebastian barked, waving a finger at her. “Turn around, hands on your head. Are you carrying any weapons?”

“Nothing right now. I came to talk, not for trouble.”

“The way I see it,  _ you’re _ trouble,” Sebastian muttered, stepping in when Kidman turned around to face the wall, even putting her hands on it. “Are you alone?” Sebastian asked. She nodded. It didn’t exactly mean anything to Sebastian, but he couldn’t see anything obvious in the parking lot, and as he frisked her, she came up clean. “Get in. Sit down. And keep the fuck away from him.”

Kidman stared at Leslie as she walked closer into their little shelter, and he in turn shuffled away into a corner, muttering to himself. 

It worried Sebastian. He hadn’t seen Leslie withdraw this much into himself since—well, since Beacon. He didn’t trust Kidman as far as he could spit, but he put the gun down and went over to Leslie to put his arms on his shoulders, giving him a little shake and a reassuring squeeze. It barely got the boy to look up.

“Leslie, it’s alright,” Sebastian said urgently. “You’re with me. You’re safe. I won’t let her do anything to you.”

“I don’t  _ want _ to do anything to him!” Kidman defended herself.

“Yeah?” Sebastian stared hard at her. “Last week you had a gun pointed at him.”

Kidman actually threw her arms up a little. “You know why!” she said, sounding exasperated. “You understand what his purpose in STEM was, right? So you know what he was capable of!”

“ _ He _ is not capable of anything!” Sebastian threw back. “It always was—” He caught himself from saying it, and he didn’t know why. “He was being used!” he said instead. “It’s not his damn fault. He’s just a kid.”

Kidman shook her head. “How did you find him? We—I was unable to track him down.”

“ _ I _ ask the questions, Kidman!” Sebastian reminded her. He gave Leslie, who was still cowering as far in the corner as he could, a last reassuring squeeze and gently ruffled his hair. Then he turned away, and back to his former colleague. 

“You don’t have to hide it,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I know about them—about Mobius.”

At that, her eyes went wide. Sebastian took a little pride in it. “Wh— _ how _ ?!”

He pointedly didn’t look in Leslie’s direction. “Don’t let that concern you,” he settled to say. “And it’s not like you were super subtle about it in the end. You cleaned up your tracks nicely though. Nobody’s believing a damn thing I say. Hell, they want me to see a shrink because they think I’m insane!”

Kidman smiled, but there was something bitter in the twist of her lip. “I wonder if maybe that would be a mercy, compared to reality.”

Sebastian didn’t tell her that he agreed.But it took a bit of his anger away.

He let out some pent up anxiety in a huge sigh and finally sat down on the second chair by the table. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “All of the this is a fucking mess. Hate to say it, but I’m actually… glad you showed up.”

Kidman’s smile seemed a little more genuine now. “Hate to say?” she repeated. “Don’t lose your charm, Sebastian.”

“I just want to talk to someone about the shit that happened with someone who was there,” Sebastian said, looking over to Leslie who was still standing in the corner, observing.  _ Someone who is not Ruben fucking Victoriano. _ “And none of that shrink bullshit, I want actual answers.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here… I owe you that much.”

“So, what, first you lie to me, Joseph and the entire KCPD, and now you’ve deserted Mobius too?” Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s quite the record.”

“It’s not as easy as that.” She leaned back, drawing invisible lines on the table with her forefinger nonsensically. “You don’t  _ quit _ Mobius. They make sure of that. Nobody leaves. Not alive, anyway.”

“You’re looking very alive to me.”

“I’ve not deserted. Not yet. But I will get out. All that happened at Beacon… It really just showed me who I was dealing with. I want no more part of all of this. I’m here on my own—and I can’t stay for long.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I understand that you don’t trust me anymore. I wouldn’t, either. But you have to at least listen to what I have to say.”

“So you keep saying, but you’ve not actually told me much,” Sebastian reminded her snarkily. 

She actually looked a little offended at that. “Well, I’m surprised by the circumstances of our meeting,” she said. “I came to your apartment but you didn’t open the door, and a couple of hours later you’re here… Although it was probably wise to go. We had surveillance on you ever since you left Beacon.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Sebastian groaned and rubbed his eyes. Did that mean they already knew about Ruvik? Sebastian wanted to ask, but Kidman already continued. 

“I was worried… about him.” She pointed at Leslie. “I’m glad he’s with you. That’s probably the safest he can be right now.”

Sebastian hummed a noncommittal reply. “Why is everyone creaming their panties over Leslie, anyway?”

Her eyes met his. “You know that Ruvik— _ Ruben’s _ only chance to survive was him, right?”

Sebastian tensed as she talked. Why did she have to correct his name? That was the first step to feeling sympathy, even he knew that. 

But maybe it was exactly that. Not so much feeling for Ruben the killer, but for Ruben the victim of Mobius. A pawn, just like herself. They had that much in common, at least. 

Christ.

“Yeah,” he said tensely. “I got that much.”

“The STEM in Beacon was shut down after we all emerged,” Kidman said, leaning forward like what she told Sebastian was a well-kept secret. “Technically it’s possible to run STEM in a sort of sleep mode—just pause it, and continue it later. It’s useful for maintenance. That’s what we did, because—well, I was sent in to come back with Leslie, and I failed, and—I couldn’t say what exactly happened, since you were also in there with me and interfered so much—”

“ _ You’re welcome _ ,” Sebastian growled. “So what you’re saying is, Mobius don’t know what exactly was going on in STEM either.”

“You could say that. Ruvik’s really messed with us all.” She shook herself, as if trying to get rid of the memories. Sebastian wondered for a moment what she had seen. But she collected herself quickly. “Anyway, to cut to the chase: The core—the brain—was empty. Ruben was gone.”

There was a tense silence. Sebastian held his breath. The only noise was the mini fridge kicking to life, and Leslie whispering, “gone, gone, gone.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. He stared hard at Kidman, trying hard not to look at Leslie. To not give his secret away. 

Kidman waited a while, but when Sebastian didn’t answer, she leaned back again. “Everyone who witnessed it freaked out,” she said. “The techs said they’ve never seen anything like it. The doctors neither. They said even with a coma patient you have some activity. But Ruben’s brain was… clinically dead.” She watched him again for a moment. “You don’t seem shocked.”

“After all the shit that happened?” Sebastian scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Fair enough. But you understand my concerns. We—Mobius doesn’t care too much, Ruvik was never more than a means to an end, and now that they have what they need—”

“And what’s that?” Sebastian interrupted. He felt himself getting impatient. Both Kidman and Ruvik talked like Mobius was the  _ Big Bad _ , and yet, neither would actually tell him  _ why _ .

“ _ STEM _ , Sebastian.” If Sebastian didn’t know any better he would have thought what passed through Kidman’s eyes for a moment was pity. “They want to build this new world order—I thought it was good, you know, they really make it sound like it’s this better world that they're building, like—a utopia for everyone, where they get rid of all the wrongs of this world—from jaywalking to murder, everything would be… cleansed.”

He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of being surprised, so he kept his facial expression perfectly level. “It would be nothing more than a dream.” 

“Yeah, but they work really hard to make it a reality.”

“No, I mean... What else is STEM, really?” Sebastian rubbed a hand over his chin, prickling the stubble. “It’s not real. You think it is, but it isn’t. We all woke up, and just like that, it was gone.”

“Yeah.” Kidman nodded, then shrugged. “But a nightmare still is a nightmare. It affects you even after you wake up. And if you never wake up… how would you know?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Sebastian muttered. “Ruvik wanted to bring back his sister but it wouldn’t have been  _ real _ . I’m pretty sure we all agree that living in the Matrix is nothing anyone would like. Hell that’s like the entire point of the movies!”

“I agree—now.” She averted her eyes, staring down at her lap. “I wasn’t… They had me convinced, I really believed it all. But—”

Sebastian shook his head. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he muttered. She looked up, looking conflicted. He shrugged non-committedly. “There’s no point. It’s done. All we can do now is figure out what we do  _ now _ .”

At that, she smiled a little. “You’re right,” she said. 

He nodded. “Okay, I get why Leslie was important when we were in STEM, but why is Mobius after him now?”

“Ruvik rigged STEM to run only to his brain wave pattern. While our technicians are working on it, it would be easiest to have a core with said pattern.”

“Like Leslie.”

“Like Leslie,” she confirmed. “And there’s of course another thing…” She looked at Leslie again, and Sebastian had to suppress the urge to shield him from her gaze. “What happened to Ruben? I don’t believe he’s dead, not for a second.”

She fell silent, and Sebastian didn’t feel comfortable lying to her face. So they sat like that for a while. 

“You can imagine my surprise when I found Leslie here, safe and sound,” she said eventually. “He has eluded us for a week. And then you have him—how did you find him?”

“It was kind of an accident,” Sebastian muttered. At least this he could be honest about to her.

“I’m glad you have him,” Kidman said. She smiled, and it was this that made Sebastian think that maybe all of this was the real deal. No more lies.

But the smile vanished quickly. “You have to get him to safety. Just get away.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I’m not running.”

Kidman looked as if she had anticipated his answer. “You can’t take them, Sebastian. Please—” 

“No.” Sebastian looked at Leslie. “We’re not running. I’m still a detective.”

“I thought you might say that,” she sighed. “Look, I could really use your help—”

He scoffed. “You’re quick to change your mind.”

She didn’t seem to mind his tone. “I’m adapting. So far, it’s helped me survive,” she said, very matter-of-factly. Sebastian had to admit she was probably right, too. “I want to get out, and I will do it on my own, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your help. If you’ll help me.”

He pushed his chin out a little. “Why should I?”

“If not for me, then for Leslie.”

Sebastian hated that now  _ two  _ people were manipulating him through Leslie, and he knew it.

With nothing else he could do, he scoffed again, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine. Do you have a plan?”

She looked a little embarrassed. “Not really,” she said. “Not yet. I need to keep up appearances, and I haven’t had the time yet. We’re all really busy trying to find Leslie, and trying to work around Ruben’s initial calibrations. I hate to say it, but he really  _ was _ a genius. I understand little of the technical details, but we have an entire team of highly trained professionals who try to work around him.”

Sebastian couldn’t help the shiver. “Don’t talk too highly of him or I’ll get the feeling you’re impressed.”

“I am,” she said, but she sounded a little offended. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a fucking maniac.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sebastian muttered. If only she knew. But god, it felt good to talk about it regardless. “Okay, you’ll have to try and keep them out of my hair for a while,” he said then. “You said they’ve lost us for now?”

She nodded. “Nobody expected you to just  _ leave _ . When I came here they were still trying your usual places.”

“Best not hang around Lenny’s bar then, huh?” It was supposed to be a joke, but even to Sebastian, it seemed off-color.

Kidman shook her head. “Best not to get seen for awhile. Maybe you can leave tonight. You should get out of town, at least. Currently Krimson City is swarming with agents, and it could be anyone.”

“Okay, I’ll see to maybe hit Springfield next.” Sebastian rubbed his chin. “And I should probably ditch my car.”

“Good idea. Park it back at your flat maybe, when you’re sure you weren’t followed. I probably don’t have to tell you you shouldn’t go for a rental.”

“I’m not  _ stupid _ ,” Sebastian groused, but she didn’t argue. 

“You won’t be any safer, but at least it gives you a headstart,” Kidman said. “And never let Leslie out of your sight.”

“What about you?” Sebastian asked.

She smiled a little. “I’ll be alright. I’ll play my role, and try to help you as best as I can.”

“Do you know that you have a chip in your head, Kid?”

Kidman whirled around and Sebastian forgot to breathe. 

Ruvik smiled thinly at them. 

“What the fuck,” Kidman said, shooting up from her seat quick enough to topple the chair. “What the fuck!” 

It felt like a déjà-vu, as if he was witnessing what happened to him just a few days ago to someone else. The instant, almost instinctual realization that the person in front of them wasn’t Leslie anymore—and knowing exactly who it was instead.

And then Kidman lunged for Sebastian’s gun on the table. 

“No!” Sebastian threw himself at her, going for the magnum, and Kidman stumbled back when his weight hit her. But she held fast. 

“Sebastian!” she shouted. “It’s him—it’s Ruvik!” 

“I know!” Sebastian shouted back. “Don’t fucking shoot—you’ll kill Leslie!” 

She gave him a confused look, and he used that moment to grapple the gun from her. 

Ruvik hadn’t moved all the while. Considering his motor skill deficit, he probably wouldn’t have been able to get away on his own anyway. (Sebastian would have given a lot to see him try, though, and run into a wall or something. He certainly deserved it.)

“I can explain,” Sebastian said. Very carefully, he let go of Kidman. 

She pushed him away and straightened herself up. “What the fuck! You knew?”

“Yes,” Sebastian admitted tersely. “We—there’s a truce.”

“A truce! With him?”

“I know it sounds crazy but—” 

“Yeah it sounds fucking crazy! Why would you—how is this even possible! Was he pretending to be Leslie earlier?”

Ruvik scoffed. “Unlike some, I’m not known for my acting skills, Kid,” he said, and she stared at him like he grew a second head.

“Don’t call me that!” She looked close to throwing a chair at him. “All what I fucking went through—that was all you!”

Ruvik shrugged a little. “You brought all of what you’ve seen with you. I just… inspired some thoughts.”

“The things you made me do!” Kidman was outright yelling at him now. Sebastian made sure the gun was secured in his holster before he grabbed her by the shoulders, making her turn at him, and even then, she was side-eyeing Ruvik.

“Kidman,” Sebastian urged. “You have to trust me. I know it seems crazy—” She wanted to interrupt, opened her mouth, but he talked over her. “—right now, he’s holding Leslie hostage. We need to handle this carefully.”

“Is this what you think of me now, Seb?” Ruvik asked, solemnly, from where he was standing. He ran his fingertips softly over the backrest of the chair, and Kidman inched away from him closer to Sebastian. “A kidnapper?” 

Sebastian half-turned to snarl at him. “Shut up. There’s a whole fucking lot on your record, and I ain’t forgetting any of it. Stay the fuck away from her. What are you even doing out? I was really hoping you’d stay asleep for a while!”

Ruvik remained standing where he was. “Elevated stress levels, Seb,” he said smoothly. “Leslie can’t handle situations like these on his own.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Kidman muttered. 

Sebastian turned back to her and gently urged her back towards the table. “Sit down. I’ll explain,” he muttered.

She brushed his hands off her. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather be standing where I can see him,” she said, staring at Ruvik.

“Fine. But don’t try anything funny.” Sebastian let her be, sitting back down even when she wouldn’t. When he saw Ruvik move from the corner of his eye, he turned. “That counts double for you, buddy!”

Ruvik shrugged. “You know I won’t, Seb. All three of us have the same goal.”

“What does that mean?” Kidman hissed.

“Do you think I condone what Mobius did, Kidman?” Ruvik turned his attention back to her. She visibly flinched, but stared back at him defiantly. 

“That’s rich, coming from a fucking psychopath!”

“Does nobody bother to know what the words they throw at people even mean?” Ruvik sighed with a shrug. Then he put his palms flat on the table, staring back at Kidman. “They  _ used  _ me. They stole my  _ body _ , my  _ life’s work _ , they took  _ everything _ from me, and I plan to take it  _ all  _ back.”

Sebastian felt a rush of ice run down his spine, skin prickling with gooseflesh and the hairs on his arms pressing up against his shirt sleeves. Though Kidman scoffed, she seemed momentarily stunned just as him. 

“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Ruvik continued, as if he hadn’t tinted their little room a shade darker. “With you helping us, things will be just a little bit easier.”

“I never said I wanted to help you!”

“We all want the same thing, Kidman,” Ruvik said, low and enunciated. “Don’t believe you can bring down Mobius by your lonesome. You need my help, my insight. I worked with their inner circles, I know more about them than you do. You’ve always just been an expendable pawn. I thought you had come to that realization all on your own by now.”

She scoffed, but she didn’t find any words. Instead, she looked at Sebastian. Before she could throw any accusations around, Sebastian quickly raised his hands.

“Both of you probably know way more about what the fuck is going on than me,” he said, then pointed at Ruvik. “I just wanna get this fucker out of Leslie’s body.”

“Charming,” Ruvik muttered.

Kidman shot him a look. “I can’t believe your plan worked,” she said. 

“Why shouldn’t it have? I was essentially an omnipotent god inside of STEM. There was very little I couldn’t do.”

“I mean, I did kind of explode you,” Sebastian chimed in. 

“Nobody asked you for your opinion, Seb,” Ruvik said without even looking at him. “My plan worked perfectly. All you did was interfere, but from the beginning, it was the only possible outcome.”

“God, it’s fucking creepy to see Leslie spew bullshit like this,” Kidman said, as if Ruvik wasn’t right in front of her. She turned to Sebastian in the same manner. “Okay, this… really fucking changes things.” She rubbed her face and groaned into her hands. “I’ll have to get back, and we need to tackle this another time. I have to think about how to go about this.”

“Is there a way to contact you?” Sebastian asked. 

“I think it’s best if we don’t know each other’s whereabouts,” she replied. “Anything else is too risky.”

“But—”

“I’ll find you.” The way she said it gave Sebastian goosebumps, but he just nodded. 

 

*

 

Sebastian closed the door behind Kidman and slid the deadbolt back into place. It was weird, now that she was gone, being alone with Ruvik again. She had come and invaded their space and their secret, and it had felt  _ good _ . Despite his caution, his intuition told him he could trust Kidman. Maybe for the first time ever. She had seemed so relieved to finally confide in someone.

Sebastian stood facing the door for as long as he possibly dared. He tried to come up with something to say—and it felt like there was so damn much to discuss, but Sebastian drew a blank.

He turned around, opening his mouth—

“If you don’t plan to use the bathroom, I’d like to go wash up,” Ruvik said. “I feel kind of… uncomfortable.”

“Go ahead,” Sebastian said, relieved that he would be rid of Ruvik for just a few moments longer. Ruvik smiled thinly and turned, and before he could think not to, Sebastian asked: “Do you think you’ll manage?”

Ruvik’s smile dipped into something like mischief when he looked back. “Are you asking to join?”

Sebastian felt like someone had punched all the air out of his lungs. “I didn’t mean—I just—”

“So elaborate, detective,” Ruvik teased, sliding a hand over the backrest of a chair he passed on the way to the bathroom that could only be described as flirtatious.

Sebastian wondered if he could just combust on the spot. From shame, but also to keep Ruvik far, far away from him.

“I will tell you if I require help,” Ruvik said slyly. 

“Just don’t fucking break your neck,” Sebastian muttered. “Or you know what, whatever, break your neck for all I care.” 

Ruvik just chuckled, and then the bathroom door clicked shut behind him.

Sebastian looked around for his cigarettes and whiskey.

 

*

 

Ruvik didn’t bother to lock the door behind him; he didn’t expect Sebastian to barge in.

He was grateful for the moment of solitude, and he leaned against the wall, pressing his hot forehead against the blissfully cold tiles. He was shaking.

Kidman was an unforeseen circumstance, and as a scientist, he  _ hated  _ those. And Ruvik knew that Kidman had no problem pointing a gun at him, even with Leslie’s eyes staring at her. She’d made that abundantly clear in STEM. Back then, he hadn’t been too worried.

Now, a bullet between the eyes had become a real threat, and Ruvik felt like he’d just barely dodged it. 

He knew Sebastian would never go this far, not so long as Ruvik and Leslie shared a body. Kidman, however, he couldn’t control so easily. Not anymore, not outside of STEM.

She would be an asset, of course—having someone on the inside would make things incredibly easier. But as it was now, Ruvik wasn’t sure if he was going to take the risk. He would have to think about it, once he had calmed down. If he decided against using her, there was also the problem of how to get rid of her. Sebastian surely wouldn’t, and Ruvik didn’t think he could trick Mobius into finishing her off. 

No matter. One thing at a time.

Ruvik eyed the shower stall. 

It was positively dwarfish, with plastic sliding doors. For that, he was thankful: It gave him something to hold onto. A shower curtain would have been less secure. 

He had never showered in his life. Certainly not in the past week, where survival was higher up on the list than personal hygiene. And the Victoriano Mansion, though it had several bathrooms, didn’t have a single shower. It was an old house, and his father had never bothered to refurbish the place to something more modern. Neither, later, had Ruvik. He cared little for these things and only made sure his laboratory and equipment were state of the art.

Sebastian had sat him—had sat  _ Leslie  _ in the bathtub as well. How Leslie hadn’t minded at all eluded Ruvik. 

First came undressing. Ruvik disliked being naked. Though he knew it shouldn’t matter, he cared that he was disfigured, barely without a single patch of unscarred skin, and completely hairless.

At least his current choice of clothes should be easy to shed. Though Ruvik prefered button downs and trousers, he was glad he didn’t have to struggle through a long row of buttons with his shaking hands and unsteady fingers. Sweatshirt and sweatpants were easily peeled off without having to open anything. 

Despite trying not to, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dirty mirror over the sink. He was white and supple everywhere, porcelain skin with blue veins stretched over visible ribs, with wispy hair growing on the nape of his neck, his forearms, under his navel. 

Ruvik stepped closer to the mirror until he could actually see himself clearly. Leslie’s albinism was quite fascinating. Ruvik had come across a great variety of subjects, and none had been like Leslie. In several ways. 

Staring at Leslie in the mirror, Ruvik scowled. It hadn’t seemed like much of a problem, initially. When robbed of a corporeal form, all that mattered to him was getting a body again in the first place, not what it looked like. And Ruvik knew he could have done much,  _ much _ worse. Though juvenile, Leslie was a very functional vessel. The myopia was the only deficit Ruvik had encountered so far, and in their trip to the drugstore this morning, Ruvik had helped himself to several boxes of contact lenses. It was the easiest of physical disabilities to work around, he figured. So that really was nothing to complain about.

He should be glad that Leslie was still so young, too. To think how many fictional scientists yearned for immortality, and Ruvik had just like that found a way, and without trying—there was some sweet satisfaction in the thought. Regardless, being closer to forty than thirty, Ruvik felt the difference.

He raised a hand to touch his face.  _ His _ face. It was his now. It still felt alien, but he figured he would get used to it eventually. Humans were quick to adapt, he knew. 

And of course there was also an upside to his new body: the sensation of touch. 

Right now, he had to actively focus on all that he felt, that’s how naturally it came to his new vessel. He felt the cold tiles under his naked feet, the chill on his chest that made him break out in goosebumps. The warmth of his own hand on his cheek. The tickle of his hair under his fingertips.

It was invigorating. 

Ruvik poked and prodded himself in front of the mirror. He traced the lines—forever internalized—where the scar tissue had been, crude and numb and red and shiny and wrinkled. 

There was nothing but perfect, smooth, receptive skin now, from his face to his collarbone down to his chest and stomach and—

Ruvik shuddered with an exhale he realized too late he was making. He recoiled from the sink, grabbing on to the towel rack for hold when he feared for his footing. 

He shivered. The bathroom seemed just a little bit colder than it had a second before. 

He had gotten hot. And that wasn’t the only physical reaction. 

Ruvik turned toward the shower and opened the doors with more force than necessary. Cold water, Ruvik knew, would help this particular problem. 

But when he turned the faucet all the way to the right and stepped under the spray, it suddenly didn’t seem like a feasible option anymore. He yelped and jumped back from the icy cold water, reaching out to turn the faucet around to the other side. 

Already with increased heartbeat, the banging on the door made him jump again. 

Sebastian’s voice came barely through the sound of the rushing water and the door between them. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Ruvik barely found enough breath in his chest to speak. “I’ll rip your heart out of your live body and stuff it into your eyes if you come in!” 

“What, caught you jerking it?” There was a short pause. “Oh my god.”

Ruvik, still trying to catch his breath, didn’t know how to reply. “Just go away!” he yelled, completely mortified when his voice wavered while doing so.

Ruvik realized too late that he had not actually objected to Sebastian’s horrendous misinterpretation of current events, and felt himself get hot all over again. More likely shame, he noted dully, instead of the sudden burst of arousal before. 

What a never ending source of sensation Sebastian turned out to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how everyone in this fic is just: [what the fuck is going on](https://youtu.be/F9UKNwlhhpo?t=1m51s)
> 
> me: god i hate it when authors write things that are just blatantly wrong just because they're lazy  
> also me, calling leslie an albino: hashtag yolo
> 
> forgive me. i hope the little bit of blatant fanservice makes up for it. (it was supposed to be short and suddenly it's two pages? dammit Ruvik, you excellent specimen of a human being*.)  
> and speaking of him, it's probably also time I share a secret: my personal Ruvik theme song is [bad reputation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9VSGPmkUc0)... you're welcome.
> 
> as always, comment, criticism and culminations are very much appreciated. the feedback to this fic elates me to unknown highs. 
> 
> * species not confirmed and open for discussion


	7. Adverse effects

Falling asleep with Ruvik in the room wasn’t easy. It wasn’t that he was actively disturbing him—though Ruvik sat by the table and had his night lamp pulled over to write in its light, he did nothing to bother Sebastian. In fact, he was eerily still, and the only thing Sebastian heard was the scratching of his pen on paper and the occasional, quiet sigh. 

This was the lullaby Sebastian eventually fell asleep to, and he didn’t wake even once before the alarm on the night stand went off droning at 6.30.

Sebastian groaned and hit it until it shut up and hated that he hadn’t checked if the damn thing was turned on the night before. He felt like he had been hit by a truck, as though the night’s sleep hadn't helped at all and only made matters worse.

He propped himself up on his elbow, rubbing his face and hair, and then looked over to the second bed. 

Ruvik—Leslie was sound asleep, cradling his head in the bend of his arm, blanket pulled up to under his nose. His white hair was tousled. Sebastian smiled a little at the charmingly simple display. 

He got up as quietly as he could, and padded on bare feet to the kitchenette to get water boiled to get them some coffee. Breakfast would have to be supplied from the supermarket across the street as soon as he put on pants. 

He tried to be as quiet as possible, but despite this, when he poured a mug of boiling water over pulverized beans, he heard the sheets behind him rustle and the tell-tale sigh of someone being ripped from Morpheus’ sweet embrace. 

He turned, and the pillow-squished, squinting face that looked up at him from between the covers told him nothing about who he was looking at. 

“Did I wake you?” Sebastian asked, because that seemed to be the safest way to gauge a reaction. 

He got a little hum as a reply. Sebastian felt the tension drain from his body when he watched Leslie fall back to his pillow. 

“Get some more sleep,” he added, because it was probably easier to convince Leslie of this than Ruvik. Of course, he never knew who would wake up—but damn if he wasn’t gonna take the risk just so he knew that Leslie was at least well rested. 

There was no response, and when Sebastian looked over from stirring his concoction, Leslie was again burrowed deep under the pillows, breathing softly.

Good. Good for him, Sebastian thought.

He drank his coffee in silence, and after that, hoping that Leslie would stay asleep for a little longer, washed up and got dressed and headed out. 

His car was still parked out front, and as he crossed the street to reach the supermarket, he wondered how he could best get rid of it. The idea to park it back at his flat seemed ideal, but he would still have to get back to the motel. Or maybe he could take Leslie after check-out and together they could see from there where they ended up—but even as he thought it it seemed too risky. Leslie should spend as little time exposed as possible. 

As he wandered through the aisles, he went through several plans, enough to distract him so that he found himself in the magazine section, looking at titty mags like a fucking idiot and getting judged by young moms pushing their strollers because it wasn’t even fucking 8AM yet.

Without a plan of action, but worried about letting Leslie out of his sight for too long, Sebastian bought a couple of snacks and beverages and hurried back to their small motel room. 

To his surprise (and, undoubtedly, relief) Leslie was still asleep when he got back. It pained Sebastian to wake him, but he set down on the bed and carefully ran a hand over the lump in the covers that was Leslie’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “Time to get up.”

There was no response. Sebastian didn’t think anything of it, and tried again, just a little harder this time. “Leslie,” he said. “Wake up.”

Leslie didn’t move. 

Panic welled up cold and heavy in Sebastian’s gut, spreading up into his lungs and cutting off his breathing. Sebastian wrestled it down, and gave Leslie a rougher shake. “Leslie!” he urged. But there was still no response.

Sebastian leaned forward. Leslie was breathing. If he looked really closely, he could see his eyes move behind his eyelids. How thin and veiny they were, almost purplish. And long, white eyelashes. Almost like a girl’s.

Sebastian gave Leslie’s cheek a few cautious pats, and when that got no reaction either, tried again harder.

Leslie stayed out.

“Fuck,” Sebastian said. “What’s wrong? I don’t need this. Shit.”

He thought about staying until Leslie woke up. But he didn’t know what was wrong— _ maybe he’ll never wake up again _ , a voice in his head said—and Kidman had made very clear that they needed to keep moving. 

Sebastian started a wild dash through the small room and collected their few belongings, throwing it all into the trunk of the car outside. Then he went back inside, unwrapped Leslie’s body from the blanket, and picked him up in his arms like a toddler. 

He still barely weighted anything. 

Sebastian clasped his hands together under his butt, Leslie’s arms and legs dangling as Sebastian carried him out of the room and into the parking lot. He wrestled him inside the backseat of the car, trying his best to get him in a position that wasn’t too cramped. He closed the door and rushed to the front desk to check out, and when he made it back to the car, Leslie was as he had left him. 

“God fucking damn it,” Sebastian groused as he keyed the ignition. “Fuck it all.”

And then he sped off, tires screeching. 

 

*

Sebastian didn’t know what to do. He wanted to lose the car, but there was no way he could move around with Leslie out cold. 

He wished there was a way to contact Kidman. He wanted to believe she knew more about what was happening than him, but also just because being able to confide in someone took such a weight off his chest yesterday. 

Hell, even Ruvik would’ve been good to have around. He was a prick, but better than nothing. 

But Sebastian was on his own. 

He’d driven to the outskirts of Krimson, and parked on a remote lot that seemed entirely forsaken. Crouching next to the open backseat door, he took Leslie’s pulse, and did everything he could think of to make sure he was alright. For all Sebastian knew, he was only sleeping. 

But he wouldn’t wake up. 

He had wrapped Leslie into a blanket in the backseat, watching him as he smoked one cigarette after another. 

As enough time passed, Sebastian was almost dead-set to go back to the hospital, track down Dr Gracía, and ask her for help. He hated the plan but it was the best he could come up with. 

Flipping the current butt aside, he got up to drive. And then Leslie roused. 

“Sebastian?” he whispered.

“Leslie!” Sebastian was back there with him in a split second, helping him unwrap himself from his cocoon, taking his hands and then holding his head to make eye-contact. Leslie looked bleary, but alright. 

And when Sebastian held eye contact, he realized how odd that actually was.

“Ruvik?” he asked cautiously, and took his hands from his cheeks. 

But Leslie just looked queerly at him. There was utter lack of Ruvik’s personality, Sebastian thought. Maybe Leslie just got a bit better with eye-contact. 

“Leslie,” he said, reassuringly. “Are you alright? You were asleep for a long time. I was worried.”

“No,” Leslie said, rising a hand to wipe his eyes. He missed his face, looking at his hand confusedly, and tried again; nudging it along his nose until it was where he wanted it. 

Sebastian felt sick to his stomach. “‘No’ you’re not alright?” 

“I wasn’t asleep,” Leslie said. He lowered his hand. Sebastian stared long and hard at him, but he was  _ sure _ this was indeed Leslie, and not Ruvik. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You were old cold for hours!” 

Leslie shook his head, and then nudged the blanket up around his shoulders as if he was cold. Then he looked around. “Where are we?” 

Sebastian felt more out of his depth with Leslie suddenly communicating like a healthy person than with having to care for a mentally ill one. He needed a moment to compose himself. Then he got up, grunting when his knees protested. 

“Remember how Kidman was there yesterday?” he asked. Leslie looked up at him, and the fear Sebastian thought he saw in his eyes reassured him that this, truly, was Leslie. Ruvik wasn’t able to act, and certainly not afraid.

“I know you’re worried,” Sebastian soothed. “But she won’t do anything to you. We need her help. We have—” Sebastian stopped himself from saying it. As far as he knew, Leslie didn’t know about his stowaway, and if Sebastian had a say in it, that wouldn’t change, either. So he just cleared his throat. “Anyway, we needed to get away. But you were asleep, and I didn’t want—”

“Not asleep,” Leslie muttered. Sebastian looked back at him. Leslie was nestled into the blanket, staring at his lap. “Just dark.”

“The dark place?” Sebastian asked. He supposed that made sense. Maybe to Leslie (and Ruvik) it wasn’t sleep anymore, now that always one of them seemed to be awake. 

“We need to get rid of the car,” Sebastian continued. “It’s gonna be easier now that you’re up.”

Leslie didn’t respond. Sebastian waited a bit, but he remained quiet. 

Sebastian couldn’t begin to guess what was going on, but at least working around Leslie was a bit more familiar. 

He let him sit there, listening when slowly, the mutterings started again. Sebastian walked over to one of the few cars that were parked here, a Ford 150 that looked like it might still drive, and got a card out to heave open the door. Hot wiring the engine was worryingly easy, and after that he popped open the trunk and started to unpack his own car. Only when he was finished did he bother Leslie again, holding his hand out to him. 

“We have to go,” he said. 

Leslie looked up at him, but just barely, before his gaze glided past him. Regardless, he took Sebastian’s hand. 

He got up, and just when Sebastian turned and let go, Leslie stumbled and fell. 

Sebastian saw it happen, and jumped to reach for him, but Leslie crumbled to the ground quicker than Sebastian was. “Leslie!” he said, gathering him up in his arms. “Are you OK? Did you hurt yourself?”

Leslie groaned. “I don’t think so,” he said. “And it’s Ruvik.”

Sebastian blinked. “What?” he asked, dumbstruck.

But Ruvik ignored him. His eyes went wide. “I can’t move,” he said. And then again, with panic creeping into his voice, “I can’t move!”

Sebastian, speaking without thinking, said, “I mean you’re moving your mouth—”

Ruvik cut him off harshly, voice raised in anger but with fear fraying the edges. “This might be a stroke, Sebastian.” 

Something in Sebastian’s gut twisted up into a tight knot. “Do you want me to call an ambulance—”

“Are you daft? No!” It went against all that Sebastian knew about strokes, but on the other hand, Ruvik was probably right. “I can’t move my arms and legs—” Ruvik said, and Sebastian wondered for a moment why he was given this information again until he realized Ruvik was rattling down a mental checklist. “Vision doesn’t seem to be impaired… Sebastian, hold up a random number.”

Sebastian did.

“Three?” Ruvik asked, and when Sebastian nodded, sighed. “Vision normal. Is my speech slurred? Any signs of aphasie?”

“You’re actually making slightly more sense than usual,” Sebastian muttered. 

“Now is not the time, Sebastian!” Ruvik snapped. “Help me up. It doesn’t seem to be a stroke, at least.” 

Something about Ruvik’s voice overrode Sebastian’s snark, and he hooked his arms under Ruvik’s pits and lifted him up. The way Ruvik’s arms flapped uselessly turned his balled-up stomach around. He kept himself together. “Can you stand?” Sebastian asked, though the fact that he supported Ruvik’s entire weight already answered this. 

“No! Help me in the car!” 

Sebastian did as he was asked. He was carrying Ruvik more than  _ helping _ him, Ruvik’s feet dragging over the ground and leaving behind a trail in the gravel. It would’ve been easier just to pick him up again and actually carry him, but something in Ruvik’s fierce eyes told him not to.

“Sebastian?” 

Sebastian had his eyes on the car. It was only a few steps away now, and yet that seemed so far. “Yeah?” he grunted.

“I’m scared.”

“Wh—Leslie?” Sebastian stopped, adjusting Ruvik in his arms, and looked down at him, and Ruvik was just  _ gone _ . 

Leslie looked to the floor, to his useless feet. “What’s happening to me?” 

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t the best thing to say to reassure Leslie, but Sebastian couldn’t think of a good lie. “You’ll be alright,” he said instead, and even that was a bad lie at best.

Leslie’s silence told him he thought so too.

They made it to the car, and Sebastian helped Leslie into the backseat. By this point, whatever was happening seemed to wear off, because although Leslie’s limbs still seemed boneless and haphazard, he managed to move a little. All Sebastian could think of doing was wrapping him into the blanket again, and rub his back. Leslie groaned, and ran his arm over his face, his wrist dangling uselessly. 

Sebastian watched him for a moment and raked up his courage. “Who are you right now?” he asked finally. It was probably the weirdest and dumbest thing he’d ever asked in his entire life, but he couldn’t tell anymore.

Apparently, he wasn’t alone with the problem. “I don’t know! Ruvik, I think—but it’s—weird, I think…” He grabbed on to himself, shoulders shaking with tremors, and doubled over. “Oh, Sebastian, help. I’m gonna be sick.”

“Not in the car!” Sebastian grabbed Ruvik so he wouldn’t vomit all over the backseat. “Fucking hell, Ruvik, I’m gonna strangle you for what you’re doing to Leslie.”

But despite having his hand in Ruvik’s neck, he did nothing but rub over his back, trying to ease him through dry heaving and vomiting stomach fluid and saliva unto the pavement. 

It was bad enough to see Leslie cry as he endured heave after heave, but even then, what had Sebastian really worried was the words that bubbled up between—the sick mixture of what clearly was Ruvik, his snark and haughtiness directed at Sebastian, and the helpless mutterings and cries of Leslie who was so painfully obviously scared. 

Sebastian didn’t know what to do besides just sitting there and hoping the spell would be over soon. 

“Who are you?” he asked again when finally, after a short eternity, the gagging and heaving stopped, and the body before him fell back exhausted. 

“Ruben,” he said, wiping his mouth and chin with his small wrist. “I think.” 

“What the fuck is going on,” Sebastian said, for the umpteenth time in just so little days. 

“I don’t know.” Ruvik slid down the backseat a little, wrapping himself up in the blanket. He sounded utterly tired. “I think we’re… melting together,” he muttered, and because he had his eyes closed and chest sunken, Sebastian for a moment thought he hadn’t heard right.

“What does that mean?“ he asked.

“What I said. Maybe we both will have one problem less to worry about.”

Sebastian didn’t like one word of it, but Ruvik pulled himself up with help of the car door, and though he shook, he said, “come on. We need to go.”

And Sebastian could do nothing but follow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like giving birth. But not in a nice, "oh look at this wonderful new life I created" kinda way. No, this chapter was like going about your day normally, and thinking you've probably become fat and need to lay off the sugar and exercise a little more, or maybe you're just a little bloated, and suddenly it's Thursday night and you're crawling to the toilet with the worst cramps in your life and then you drop the most horrifying, bloody, screaming blob of sentient flesh into the bowl and you're not sure if maybe you should just flush, flush it all away.
> 
> But you also kinda love it, y'know?
> 
> I decided to post this, short as it is, just so that I get it behind me, and I can try to be a somewhat decent parent from here on out. I hope you enjoy!


End file.
